by T Gephart
I was turned on, confused as fuck and wondering how the hell in two minutes flat he’d gotten the upper hand.
“You’re not speechless are you, New York?” He picked up a fry, just one, and lazily brought it to his mouth, smirking.
No one ate one fry at a time. No. One.
“Eat your burger.” I tried to sound unfazed, picking mine up and taking a small bite. “If you’re still hungry after that I know a great place for dessert.”
His eyes widened, the words he’d once so innocently tossed my way coming back to haunt him. And newsflash, I didn’t mean a diner that served a thousand different kinds of pie.
“I’m looking forward to it.”
Well, that made two of us.
SEX WITH ERIC WAS SOMETHING I’d imagined at least a million times. Maybe more. Possibly even a billion. He was my go-to whenever I needed a little help. There had been times when I’d been with an actual guy and still fantasized about Eric.
This didn’t make me special; it just made me honest. Because guaranteed if you asked a girl if she had tucked away some dude who could take her to her happy place in a second, she would either answer yes or be lying. Most of us weren’t innocent little wallflowers who blushed when you showed them a penis. Unless it was unsolicited; but that’s another story.
So, as we rode the elevator, smoldering looks going on from both sides, I was faced with a very interesting conundrum.
I was in lust with him. No two ways about it and I wanted to feel him above me, below me, and everything in between. But I also liked him. Not because he looked amazing and his body was insane—okay, not only for that. But because I could see just below the surface he was more than that. Which was sort of ridiculous because I barely knew him. But even with that, knowing him for like three seconds, I could tell there was more.
So if we did it, would all of it end before it ever began? Could I accept being his one-night stand, because what else could this be? I mean it was Eric Larsson for Christ’s sake, he wasn’t going to date some nobody from Brooklyn. The fact I’d even considered it was proof to how much my mental wellbeing had slipped. Maybe I needed to join Valerie Vine in her rehab? At least I would get a chance to thank her properly for getting me this far.
Sex. No strings. One night. Maybe a few more—I wasn’t sure how long he was in town for. Could I have him and then walk away?
My hormones were saying a resounding hell yes we’d cope. We’d be fine. We’d wrap all those memories up in a blanket and tuck them away for eternity. Treasure them. Tell stories when I was eighty in the nursing home about the time I slept with a famous person. Impress the fuck out of those nurses when I showed his picture. Mental note. Get at least one picture together.
But my head was saying that while I hadn’t always made the smartest choices, this one might be bad. Real bad. Might, however was the operative word. A possibility. As in, maybe it will be okay. Which is why my hormones were winning the argument, my girlie parts rejoicing!
“So how long are you in town?” Had I asked that back at the burger place? Now was not the time to get awkward.
“A few days.” The eye fucking continued, his hands yet to touch me.
“Well, if you need a tour guide . . .” Please Tia, get your shit together. This wasn’t a freaking job interview. “I can point you in the right direction.”
Please for the love of God and all that is holy make my mouth stop. I knew how to be seductive, why couldn’t that part be running the show.
“I might take you up on that.”
What does that mean? What does it mean!
“Here we are.” The metal doors of the elevator thankfully opened on my floor, saving myself from further mortification. “I’m just here.” My arm game-show-waved to my front door. “I’ll just get my key.” Unless Vanna White was standing behind it and wanted to do me a solid, opening the fucking door.
The commentary was killing me but I talked when I was nervous. It didn’t happen often—I rarely got rattled—but it was my coping mechanism. Which I guess was a welcome change from the stunned silence I had been experiencing before, so there was that.
Eric watched carefully as I slid my key into the door and unlocked the fifty-two—okay three, my dad was super security conscious—locks before we could enter my apartment.
I should have thought this through.
While I wasn’t messy by any stretch of the imagination, my apartment was definitely lived in. There was also the fact that my personal space wasn’t ready to meet new people, and it had nothing to do with my furniture not matching.
The sexy bra and panties set I’d worn on Monday air-drying on the kitchen chair were my first misdemeanor. The thirty-two tubes of red lipstick on my coffee table were my second. I swear I couldn’t have planned this worse if I’d tried.
“Ah, the place is a bit of a mess.” I closed the door behind us. His eyes went straight to my harlot-red lingerie. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
He turned to face me, slowly, almost predatory. So fucking hot I couldn’t stand it. His eyes on me the entire time.
“What were you expecting?” He moved in closer, his body inches from mine.
Oh God, touch me, I wanted to scream, the heat unfurling between my legs almost unbearable. My nipples pebbled underneath my T-shirt, my breasts dying for his hands, his mouth, his * fill in any body part that belonged to him here.* I needed to taste him, cover every inch of his tanned skin with my lips and my tongue and savor him, cat-like with a saucer of milk.
And let’s not even talk about what was happening in my underwear, I was so wet and primed, just the slide of his finger would make me explode. Actually having sex? We’re talking Chernobyl-level fall out.
There was no way I wasn’t going to sleep with him. Not any scenario that would change my mind. I was so wound up that he could have developed leprosy at this point, lose all his limbs, and I’d still be a sure thing.
“Tia.”
My name had never sounded as sexy as it did coming out of that mouth. My hands, no longer willing to wait patiently on the sidelines, grabbed the fabric of his T-shirt.
“Eric.”
I’d barely gotten his name out when his lips came crashing down on mine, his breath hot as his tongue pried open my lips and took ownership of my entire mouth.
Oh Lord in heaven and all the freaking saints, he was good, pressing his body against mine, forcing me backward until my ass hit the wall. Which I was totally cool with, all that delicious weight pressed hard against me as his mouth continued to dominate mine.
And then he touched me. His massive hands reached for my arms and raised them above my head, pinning them between the apartment wall and wall of human muscle that made me gasp. It wasn’t just his chest that was hard.
I was going to die.
There was no way I was going to survive this.
No. Fucking. Way.
And I was totally okay with that. I’d had a great life. Achieved a lot. Traveled. The future was overrated. I would die here today, victorious.
My body rubbed against him, desperately seeking more friction as his mouth moved to my neck and I struggled against his hold to free my arms.
In all the times I’d imagined kissing him, it wasn’t even close to the reality. He was gold medal, black Amex, Michelin-star good. And I could only wonder how talented the other parts of him were, and if the erection pressed against me was only half as big as it felt I was going to pass out.
“I want you.” It came out of my mouth so needy and desperate I should have been embarrassed. Lucky for me the part of my brain that controlled that had short-circuited about five minutes ago and I no longer cared.
“Do you?” He laughed at my throat, his hard-on taunting me as his hands trailed down my body until they reached my hips. He pulled me closer, the bulge in his jeans making me tingle in all the right places.
“Touch you.” I had stopped speaking in whole sentences, my language reduced to unintelligible words and
grunts. My hands didn’t suffer the same affliction, braille reading every curve and ripple of his body with uncontained need.
What is happening? A voice in the recesses of my conscience called out. You barely know this man and now you are going to sleep with him?
Fuck you, another voice called out. She’s been good; this is her reward.
“Yes.” My fingers moved back up to his face, tracing the lines of his jaw to prove he wasn’t a mirage. My mind still unconvinced I hadn’t conjured up the wildest sex dream of all time.
“You sure, Tia?” He stopped kissing me for a second, his jagged breaths matching mine. “This hadn’t been my plan today.”
Now . . . let me think. Was I sure?
If I had an hour left to live, this is what I would want to be doing. If this meant I could never have sex again, I would happily retire my vagina. If sleeping with Eric meant I had to wear a scarlet letter or be burned at the fucking stake, I would get myself stitching right now. And I didn’t even know how to sew.
HELL FUCKING YES I WAS SURE.
I nodded, my head bouncing off the wall as his hands went to lift up my T-shirt.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Dying. I was dying. Nothing deserved to feel this good, ever.
“Tia, are you home?”
No.
No.
No.
There was a loud knock at my door. The owner of the voice, none other than my sister Judith.
I was going to kill her.
KILL. HER.
“No,” I said loudly both frustrated and disappointed. “Tia can’t come to the door right now, please leave her a message after the beep. Beeeeeeeep.”
On a scale of one to ten, I would rather slather myself in honey and lay down in a pile of fire ants than open my fucking door.
“Tia, that doesn’t work on me. I know you are there. Open up, I’m in a hurry.”
“It’s okay, answer it.” Eric’s hands left my body and I almost wept at the loss.
“I’m sorry.” I cringed, my sister’s life only spared because my niece and nephew would be sad and motherless. “This will only be a minute.”
“It’s fine, New York.” He laughed, adjusting his T-shirt, the evidence it was about to be ripped off disappearing.
Deep breath.
“Judith.” I cracked open the door, my body blocking the entrance. “What did you need?” My smile so tight my cheeks hurt.
“What’s wrong with you?” She eyed me suspiciously, her foot pushing into the doorway. “Open the door, I need to drop off the suit.”
“Now is not a good time.” I glanced at the oversized white garment bag she had in her hand completely oblivious as to what the hell suit was inside. “What suit?”
“Seriously, Tia, let me in the goddamn door. I need to get back to work.” She pushed forward, the door swinging open enough that she caught sight of Eric.
It took her a minute.
Just one.
And then realization settled in. That the man in my apartment was the very same one who was the screen lock on my phone.
And my computer background.
And self-proclaimed number one crush.
“Tia.” She said my name but she was looking at him, her jaw almost hitting the floor.
“Yes. Now what was the suit I needed?” I tried acting cool, refusing to acknowledge the movie star in the room. “You don’t want to be late getting back to the office.”
“Hi, I’m Eric.” He put out his hand, giving Judith one of those panty-melting grins I was positive she didn’t deserve. “I’m Tia’s friend.”
“You’re her friend?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicious disbelief before turning to me. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Judith, don’t be so rude.” I laughed, playfully slapping her arm, begging her not to ruin this for me. Throwing me under the bus now was a steep price to pay for decapitating all her Barbies when I was seven. “Eric is a friend. Eric, this is Judith.”
“Hello.” She forced a smile, finally accepting his offer of a handshake. “Nice to meet you. Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone other than Tia.”
“Nice to meet you too,” he reciprocated before dropping his hand.
“So.” She turned her attention to me, her I’m-not-going-to-embarrass-you-but-you-have-a-lot-of-explaining-to-do look firmly in place. “Here is the rabbit suit for tomorrow. I picked it up and thought you might want to try it on.” She handed me the oversized garment bag, the information she’d given me not any more helpful than her previous statements.
“A rabbit suit?”
Did I slip into some kind of black hole? What the hell did I need a rabbit suit for? And why was Judith delivering it? Oh, did I die for real? This would be my hell. Having Eric Larsson in arms reach, having him rub his probably massive—hello, the man was huge—cock all over me and not be able to sleep with him. Followed by my sister in the room pussy blocking me with a fucking rabbit suit. It had to be hell, nothing else made any freaking sense.
“Tia, you said you would do it.” Her lips thinned, trying to maintain her smile. “I am counting on you.”
“Huh?”
Crickets. I had no idea what she was talking about.
“Bridget’s birthday party? The Alice in Wonderland theme? The white rabbit cancelled and you agreed to fill in? Ringing any bells?” Her eyes widened, warning me “yes” was the only answer she was going to accept.
“Oooooohhhhh, that suit.” Nope, I still had no idea. “Yes, thank you.” I draped it over the back of my couch. “Now let me see you out.” I all but pushed her back through the still-open doorway into the hall, shutting the door behind us.
“Are you crazy?” she hissed at me, pointing wildly to my closed apartment door. “What the hell is Eric Larsson doing in your apartment and why does he think you’re his friend? Drugging someone is illegal, Tia.”
“Relax. I didn’t drug anyone.” I held up my hands defensively trying to keep my voice down. Last thing I needed was to advertise the crazy I had successfully kept under wraps. I prayed he didn’t have his ear pressed against the door. Maybe I was the only one who did that.
“And please tell me you didn’t kidnap him and now he’s Stockholm Syndrome-ing you.” She was still hissing at me but this time her hands were perched on her hips. “Our parents would not be able to handle the trial, and orange would look hideous on you.”
“I didn’t kidnap him either; he is here of his own free will. I swear.”
Sure, maybe she had a point. Eric showing up in my apartment days after my whirlwind trip to L.A. to meet him—the unobtainable guy I’d been lusting over—looked suspect. But why she thought the worst was beyond me. I had never done anything that illegal. Okay, I had never done anything that illegal and gotten caught. Still, she was my blood, she was supposed to be supportive of me.
“Mind alternation? Hypnosis? Subliminal messages?” The hands from her hips were now waving in the air, her struggle to keep her voice down making her face turn red. “I knew you going to L.A. was a mistake.”
“Would you calm down.” I grabbed her arm and moved her further away from the door. “I didn’t do anything wrong, okay.”
“Really?” she scoffed, not buying it for a second. “So he just happened to wander into town and just show up at your apartment? C’mon, you’ll have to do better than that.”
Fine, in theory the situation was farfetched. Hell, I knew the truth and even I couldn’t believe it. Still, miracles happen all the time. Blind people see again, people in wheelchairs get up and walk, and occasionally movie stars turn up at the addresses of their fans. I was being rewarded. This shit was between me and the Viking gods—I was positive the regular Jesus Christ God wasn’t responsible, not with the amount of times I took his name in vain—and I deserved my reward.
“I’ll call you and explain everything later.” My need to end the conversation at an all-time high. “But now you have to leave.”
Eric had already been alone in my apartment too long. But I knew if I didn’t pacify my sister she would ruin whatever chance I had with him. So as much as I was anxious to get back inside—please Lord don’t let him change his mind—I also needed to deal with Judith first.
“Fine, but call me,” she relented seeming to calm down over my promise to explain. And I had yet to prove I was unreliable or done anything illegal so there was that.
“I will, promise.” I gave her my sweetest nothing-to-see here smile. “Now, don’t get mad.” I winced knowing there was no other way around it. “But what the hell is with this white rabbit suit?”
“Oh, come on!” She was mad again, her look almost murderous. “At dinner last night I mentioned our white rabbit had backed out for Bridget’s party. You know, your five-year-old niece who is having a birthday tomorrow afternoon? And you said, I’ll do it. It can’t be too hard.” She changed her voice mimicking me. “So I went and got a suit this morning, this has been the only time I had between appointments.”
Well then. That explained a lot.
Yesterday I had been so preoccupied with news of Eric and Anna’s relationship demise and my strategic planning that I had no flipping idea what I had agreed to. I ate my pot roast, nodded in what I thought were the right places, but my mind was firmly on the task at hand. I surely couldn’t be held responsible for anything I said or did during that dinner. I would even argue that I didn’t have mental competency, unable to make rational decisions. Judith could have asked me to donate my heart and I would have agreed.
“It’s fine. I’ll do it.” It’s a rabbit suit, how hard could it be? “Just make sure I don’t get peed on. And I refuse to dance or anything like that.”
“You’ll be fine.” She rolled her eyes before turning to leave. “Call me.” Her parting words.
Well, this was fun. I had Eric still in my apartment, free to see God knows what—please Lord don’t let him don’t let him find my notes—and I had to walk back in there and explain why I was arguing about a bunny suit outside rather than getting naked with him.
He was going to think I was certifiable.
Honestly, he wouldn’t be wrong.
