by Ashley Logan
“Yeah,” she breathed as she continued to stare at him.
Serge closed his eyes and stepped back. “I promised I wouldn’t touch you.” His voice was so strained, it must be clear to her how much he wanted to.
“What if I want to be touched?” she asked, making his eyes snap open again. She now stood right in front of him, her pert nipples almost touching his chest. Serge wanted to touch her so bad; gently at first and then how he meant it.
Struck by the thought that she had warned him she might come on to him, but wouldn’t want to, he held back. “Are you sure?”
In answer, she reached for his hand, placing it on her breast.
Shocked at the pace of her heart beating beneath his fingers, Serge held her eyes as his hand left her breast and cupped her face. She leaned into his touch and he was done for. Pulling her face to his with both hands, he brushed her lips with his.
So soft and tasting faintly of cinnamon, they begged him closer. Crushing his lips to hers, he let go of any reservations he’d had when she moaned into his mouth. The sound made his scalp prickle and his cock jerk to attention.
With the tip of his tongue, Serge traced the crease of her mouth, requesting permission to enter. Vi parted for him immediately, her own tongue welcoming him inward. It was his turn to moan as her tongue curled against his, inviting him deeper.
His hands traveled into her hair. One pulled her still closer and the other stroked the dark, silky tresses that fell to her hip. Encircling her trim waist, he pressed her to him as his other hand roamed down her back, feeling her under his fingertips as if to prove to himself that she was real.
He sensed the urgency within her as she responded to his movements hungrily. Vi’s hands slipped under his t-shirt, setting his skin aflame as she trailed her hands across it. Kissing her all the while, Serge walked her backward to the wall. As he lifted her, she wrapped her long legs around him, causing his erection to leap again.
Pinning her to the wall with his hips, he slid a hand under her shirt to pursue the nipples that had been taunting him all week. Palming one of her breasts, he rolled her nipple gently between his finger and thumb before tweaking it more firmly.
Violet gasped, breaking the seal of their lips as her hips rocked against him. With a faint whimper, she met his eyes; her need clear as day. With all the strength he could muster, Serge took a deep breath and pressed his forehead to hers.
“Vi, I don’t know if you really want to do this,” he panted, trying to keep his own hips still as he fought the urge to rub his hardened cock between her legs. “If we’re both confused, we should take some time to get our thoughts straight. I don’t want to be the guy you screw just because I’m here and I’m safe. I can’t be that guy, even though right now, I’d like nothing more than to bury myself inside you. I need you to be sure. I need us both to be sure,” he added, searching frantically for his resolve as she moved against him while he spoke.
Nodding, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right, but did you have to say ‘bury yourself inside me’? You’re such a fucking tease!”
Her words made his cock twitch against the heat of her crotch and he groaned.
“Hearing you repeat it only makes me want it more! I need to get you home before I do something you’ll regret,” he said, stepping back and setting her feet on the floor. Holding onto her hips, he kissed her forehead and backed away. “Where is your bag? We need to get you away from me immediately.”
With a quiet laugh, Violet straightened her clothes and padded around him, her cheeks still flushed and her lips swollen from his kiss. Picking up her bag, she glanced over her shoulder as she headed for her shoes at the door.
“Any other guy would have fucked me senseless just then, Serge.”
Covering his face with his hands, he struggled to keep the thought from his mind.
“I know,” he said with remorse. “I wish I could have, but I don’t want you to hate me tomorrow.”
Grabbing his keys, she threw them to him and nodded out the door she’d pulled open. “Not much chance of that now, Serge,” she said, smiling as he joined her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
VIOLET
Serge remains quiet as he walks me home. Ducking into the stairwell that leads up to my apartment, we afford ourselves some privacy, now that the club is open for business.
“Thanks for walking me home, Serge. You really didn’t need to.” I turn to face him.
He’s right behind me, and I turn right into him and have to steady myself with a hand against his rock hard chest. For a moment I’m frozen, my hand resting against him.
Studying me carefully, he moves a hand toward my face. Last time he touched my face, he just about kissed the pants off me, so now my whole body is on high alert, wondering what he’ll do; where his touch might go.
Gently unhitching wayward strands of hair from where they’ve stuck to my lip as I turned, Serge sweeps them behind my ear. The motion is slow and tender, and his touch lingers.
“I really want to kiss you again Vi,” he says as if it’s a bad thing. His fingers pull away from my hair and come to rest on my hand, still attached to his chest. Peeling it from him, he kisses my palm and returns it to me.
“I think we should take a few days,” he says, his eyes serious as he looks into mine. “To figure out what it is we really want. Don’t you?”
Nodding calmly, I ignore the vixen inside me as she screams for him to kiss me; to carry me upstairs and release me from my sexual prison. I’m pretty sure I know what I want, but it’s not a sure thing with our histories. I don’t want to freak out with Serge, and I definitely don’t want to be pushed away. Nor do I want to be the regret that keeps him from thinking what might have been with Gina.
“That sounds like the most responsible thing to do,” I agree, stepping back and smiling a little. “Lucky you’re such a wise old man, huh?”
His serious face relaxes as he returns my smile. “Yeah. Let me know when you need babysitting again.”
Snorting, I step back, rising onto the first step. “It’ll be after you get glasses, so you can read me a bedtime story.”
Serge blushes and rubs the back of his head as his eyes drop to the floor.
“What? Too saucy?”
Shaking his head, he laughs. “I wasn’t actually thinking of the bedtime part until you just said that.”
“Then what?”
Looking to the ceiling, he sighs. “I got my eyes tested last week after you were teasing me. I actually do need glasses for reading now.”
I hold my breath to keep from laughing. Serge notices and narrows his eyes at me, but can’t hide the smile behind them.
“Kids these days,” he says, shaking his head. “No respect for their elders.”
Clearing laughter from my throat, I curtsy on my step and give him a peck on the cheek. “We kids stay up so late anyway, Serge. Might be that I’ll be the one to read you to sleep after your 4pm dinner. Let me know if you need help with your strained peas.”
“I’ll be sure to,” he says, keeping me from leaving by taking my hand. “And don’t forget to tuck me in tight so I won’t fall out of bed. Last thing I need is a busted hip. I’ll have to retire early.” His eyes fall to our hands and he studies his fingers woven between mine. The sight of our hands entwined makes my heart beat faster, but I can only guess at his thoughts as his face gives nothing away.
“If you retire early I’ll read to you through the day, to keep you occupied.” My words come in stages as my breath quickens. Serge’s eyes fly to mine, their intensity and depth a little startling.
“It’s sweet you want to fill my days, but if my eyes have failed and my mobility is gone, I can only assume that my memory will be unreliable too,” he says, stepping closer. “How will I know you were even there?”
“I’ll make sure you remember,” I whisper, leaning in as he does. Our lips brush lightly, sending tingles down my spine.
Unable to hold bac
k, I slide my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He comes eagerly, bracing himself with one hand on the wall as his other arm wraps around me. My fingers weave into his hair. Curling around, they search for grip as he starts to pull back. I don’t want it to end.
“Damn it,” he says, wrenching his face sideways and gasping for breath. “I can’t think straight.”
“Neither,” I admit, missing his lips more than I thought was possible.
“Was that flirting? Did we just make old age problems hot, or is it because you’re so damn sexy anything out of your mouth makes me want to take you where you stand?”
His words trickle over me and pool in my core, aching to be played out. “I don’t know. I lost track after I started picturing you with glasses,” I reply, doing the same thing now and loving it. “Kind of Clark Kent-ish.”
Serge chuckles, as he rests his forehead on my shoulder. “Aren’t you a little young to know about Superman?”
“Apparently not. Does that destroy your dirty old man fantasies?” I ask, moving back so he has to raise his head. Regarding me with eyes that make me feel naked, or that make me want to be, he takes a deep breath.
“I should get going. You’ve got work.”
“I do; starting with a cold shower. Meanwhile, you have to decide if I’m the girl or the Kryptonite.” Kissing him on the cheek, I run upstairs before I strip on the step and jump on him. “Good night, Serge.”
“Night, Vi,” he calls after me.
BY WEDNESDAY, I STILL hadn’t heard from Serge. At this stage I’ve already convinced myself it’ll be too difficult for him to have a relationship of any sort with me, let alone one where he might grow to love me. At the end of the day I’m just the young stripper he accidentally befriended one lonely night.
“Just call him,” Kat says as she walks past to the kitchen, pulling me from my brooding.
“And say what, Kat? Hi Serge, I’m pretty disappointed you haven’t called me? I guess your kisses meant more to me than mine did to you?” Crossing my arms, I huff at her. “Yeah, that sounds really good.”
“Just text him then. But not that,” she adds quickly as she stands in the doorway flicking through the mail. “Mail for you,” she says, sending it my way like a frisbee. Recognizing my mother’s stationery, I ignore it and let it fall to the floor. Frowning at me, Kat walks over to pick the letter up. Setting it on the coffee table, she picks up my phone and hands it to me.
“Ask him what he’s doing for dinner tonight. It’s ladies’ night, so you’re not dancing and you can swap me for the late bar shift if you want.”
Taking my phone, I tentatively thumb out a message. “Just asking about dinner?”
“If he makes an excuse, move on. If not, set a time.”
My hand trembles a little. I hadn’t realized how nervous I am. “That simple?”
“This isn’t your first time setting up a date, Vi. It’s better to know, either way, yes?” she asks, crossing her legs as she sits on the arm of the couch. Her top leg bobs up and down impatiently.
It might be the first time I actually care about the response though, I think to myself. I hit send, the pit of my stomach dropping to new and despairing depths.
I wait.
The waiting is torturous. Kat, who must have thought a reply would come immediately, gives me a pat on the shoulder as she moves back to the kitchen to avoid the uncomfortable period.
Eventually the chirp of my phone brings her back to the doorway. Glancing from her expectant face to my phone, I take a calming breath.
Serge: Can’t tonight. Working.
Staring at the words, I fight back the tears that threaten to fall.
“What did he say?” Kat prompts, coming closer. Unable to talk past the lump in my throat, I hold up the screen for her to see. Her sharp intake of breath is enough to unravel me. Pushing off the couch, I head to my room, holding up a hand to halt Kat as she tries to follow.
Safely inside alone, I slide down my door and lean my head back against it. What did I think would happen? That this great guy, who I thought might understand me, actually doesn’t. Or he does, but doesn’t want any part of it.
Which hurts more?
Looking around my room, I curse myself for thinking I could have more. All the negative thoughts I’ve spent months trying to keep out, suddenly overwhelm me. Used. Damaged. Worthless. Disposable. Only good for a ride.
Serge won’t even do that. Too nice, probably. Bet he’s thinking it, but too polite to say, or too damaged himself to take on my neuroses too. Maybe he wants to, but thinks I’ll break and doesn’t want to be responsible for that.
My phone chirps again.
Serge: Wow. That sounded really bad when I reread it. No wonder you didn’t respond. Crazy busy at the moment. Should be better tomorrow. Are you free for lunch then?
Sniffing, I wipe my eyes and read it again. Redemption?
Serge: Please say you are.
Me: I’m sure I can drag myself out of bed by then. I’ll meet you at the station and we can eat somewhere close so you won’t have to waste any time.
Serge: You’re not a waste of time Vi. Midday?
Me: Best time for breakfast.
I read through his last message again. The words are enough to banish the negative thoughts again. Persuaded that hope is not lost, I pull myself off the floor and blow my nose. Over the last few days, I’ve come to realize that I really enjoy Serge on all levels and my overly emotional response to what I thought was his rejection, goes to show just how into him I am; how into me I want him to be.
I know that I’m on dangerous ground, and that I should be taking measures to protect myself, but at the same time, I don’t want to hold anything back.
Heading back to the kitchen, I stop in the door as Kat turns to face me, scooping noodles into her mouth.
“Change of plans. We’re having lunch tomorrow.”
Chewing, she watches me thoughtfully. “Make sure you say that you want everything to be very clear,” she advises, swirling more noodles onto her fork. “I don’t want you getting hurt over misunderstandings.”
“Me neither. I’ll work on making my skin a little thicker before then too.”
“Good. But don’t make it armor-plated. Feelings shouldn’t be locked up.” Shaking her head, she swats the air between us and shoos me out of her way. “You already know all this. See ya downstairs,” she calls over her shoulder as she takes her noodles down with her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SERGE
“You definitely have the Clark Kent thing going on.”
Serge looked up to see Violet grinning at him from outside his office door.
“I saw Mitch downstairs and he gave me directions to find you. Hope you don’t mind.”
Serge took off his new glasses and blinked at her. Wearing a simple dress with a floral print and her long hair in a loose braid down her back, she was stunning.
“You look too damn beautiful to have just rolled out of bed,” he said, thrusting his chair back to stand. His cheeks flaming a little when he realized he’d spoken aloud, Serge adjusted his collar. “I don’t mind at all.”
Blushing, she shrugged. “You’d think anything was beautiful after staring at these beige walls all morning.”
A throat cleared on the other side of the room and Serge closed his eyes, as a sinking feeling traveled from his chest to his gut. On hearing and seeing Vi, his mind had filled with all the sensations he’d felt as he’d held her in his arms. He’d forgotten Gina was even there.
“Gina,” Vi said in a surprised tone as she stepped properly into the office. “Hi. I hadn’t realized you were there. So, back at work then. How are you adjusting after time away?”
“Hi Violet.” Gina’s tone was a bit cool and Serge felt his eyebrows knit as he turned to her. “We’ve been busy since I’ve been back, so I haven’t had much time to adjust. We’re still busy, actually,” she added.
“Not too busy to keep our breakfast da
te though,” Serge said, as he turned his frown away from Gina. The sight of Violet in a sundress made him smile. “And apparently the weather is too nice to be cooped up in here all day.” Rolling up his sleeves, he motioned Vi out the door.
As they jogged down the stairs side by side, Vi looked at him as though she was about to speak, but she remained quiet.
“What are you thinking in there?” he asked, as they reached the bottom.
“I don’t really want to say, in case it sounds bitchy, because that’s not how I’m thinking it.”
“Gina?”
Vi nodded. “I’m wondering if she is normally like that, because whenever I meet her, I can’t see what it is that you’d like about her.”
Serge scratched his head and led the way out onto the sidewalk. “She’s not normally like that.”
“She’s not?” A small crease formed between Violet’s dark eyebrows and Serge wanted to smooth it over with his thumb. Or his tongue.
“So it’s me? Is she... jealous?” Vi looked up at him from under her eyebrows as if terrified of the answer, or what it would mean. Serge didn’t know if he liked what it meant either.
He shrugged. “You’re forgetting I’m easily confused by the inner workings of my partner. What I’ve been doing for the last few days is trying to forget what I think she wants and working out what I want. Can we forget about her for a while and just have lunch?”
“Breakfast,” Vi corrected, with a smile. “I was thinking Feed the Beast? It’s halfway down this block, they do all day breakfast, but have a lunch menu too, if you’re not sold on second breakfast.” She looked him up and down and shook her head. “You’re a bit tall for a hobbit, but I’m not judging. You probably didn’t even eat this morning, so it would still be first breakfast anyway. I’m rambling now. Feel free to cut in and shut me up. What do you think?”
“You had me at Feed the Beast. I’m starving.” Serge didn’t add what he was hungry for, but he might by the end of lunch, if he could build up the courage. Violet’s face brightened more as she met his eyes. He wondered if maybe she’d caught a glimpse of his appetite there, because a little color rose in her cheeks as her eyes skittered away.
