Becoming Rain
Page 55
I know I don’t have long. The little voice in the back of my head screams that I have to restrain myself. I can’t let this go too far, too fast, or it’ll up the stakes for the next time. But on the other hand, I want to make the most of these moments with him because I won’t get them again. That’s why I don’t stop him when he shifts back toward the window, until I feel the cool glass against my skin. Shifting his feet in between mine, my legs naturally move to accommodate his body as it presses up against me.
It isn’t until his hand slides up the length of my thigh, under my skirt, that reality sinks in.
I break away from his mouth to whisper, “Slow down.”
His mouth finds my neck, his body pressing up harder, his fingers curling around the side of my panties. This has gone too far. “Luke!”
A sudden bang sounds at the door. Stanley and Licks bolt up and run over to dance in front of it, howling at the top of their lungs in a horrendous choir.
It finally grabs Luke’s attention, though, a wild, confused look clearing the heady haze from his eyes. “What the hell?” He checks the clock on the TV on his way to the door. He leans up to the peephole. “Seriously?” Luke throws open the door to find Franky standing there in a pair of jeans and a bomber jacket, a pizza box balanced in his hand.
“That’ll be twenty-two forty,” he says, his eyes surveying the condo with lightning-quick speed, zeroing in on me.
“We didn’t order pizza.”
“Yeah you did,” Franky argues, matter-of-factly.
“No.” Luke pauses. “Well, I didn’t. Unless . . .” He glances back. “Was dinner really that bad?”
I smile and shake my head. “Don’t get me started on shitty fast-food pizza.”
Franky holds up a piece of paper and scrunches his face up. Glancing at the door, and then back at the paper, he begins apologizing. “Aw, man. I’m so sorry. This dyslexia, you know? It makes me fuck numbers up sometimes. Between that and the sporadic hearing loss . . .” His eyes dart to me, and I hear the message loud and clear.
Feigning shock by opening my eyes wide, I quickly switch my wire back on, Luke’s attention still on Franky.
“No worries,” Luke says.
“Sorry about that. Good evening, miss.” He salutes and leaves. I wonder which condo isn’t getting their pizza tonight.
Luke throws his door shut and pauses to rub the back of his head, a look of bewilderment on his face. He shakes it off with a laugh. “Well, that was weird.”
Now that the haze has dispelled from around my head, I’m able to see more clearly. “Listen, I should probably get going.”
“Wait.” Luke levels me with a pleading look that I can’t peel my eyes from. “I’m really sorry about that. I shouldn’t have let it go that far. You’re just so . . . Shit.” He hangs his head and closes his eyes, guilt radiating off him.
“It’s okay. Really.” I close the distance and collect his hand in mine, lifting his knuckles to my lips in the lightest kiss, one that hopefully no one can hear.
“I won’t let that happen again, I promise. Just stay. Watch a movie with me . . .” He begins leading me backward, away from the front door. He nods toward Stanley, sitting beside Licks on a giant denim dog bed again, now that the excitement is over. “Come on. Stanley really wants to stay, see?”
“Stanley’s licking his own junk.”
“Well, you definitely don’t want to interrupt him while he’s doing that.”
“Fine. A movie and nothing else.” I drop into the couch.
“Finish this off.” I quietly watch him empty the last of the wine into my glass, my gaze wandering as he turns his focus to the plasma on the wall. The surprise guest didn’t completely kill it for him, based on the prominent bulge in his jeans. Is that why he wants me to stay? If so, he’s persistent, I’ll give him that much.
“What kind of movie do you want?” I look up to find him smirking, full well knowing where my attention just was.
My cheeks burn. “Whatever you want.”
Diving into the couch beside me, he hooks an arm around my shoulders and scrolls through a list of shows he’s recorded on the DVR, finally landing on one.
“No.”
“What? Why not? Don’t you think it’s a brilliant concept?”
“Filming people while they wander around the jungle naked is not brilliant. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of.”
“Fine.” He keeps scrolling until he reaches a string of American Idol episodes.
“Chef Boyardee and reality TV? Seriously, are you twelve? Give me that!” I yank the remote from his hand and begin scanning the movie channels, looking for something that’s at least vaguely stimulating to my brain. Wondering how the hell anyone could be grooming this guy to run an international car theft ring.
He’s nothing but amused, easily relinquishing control, seemingly happy to twirl the ends of my hair and let me choose some action adventure with robots and dinosaurs and a hot male actor.
Luke keeps his word, pulling me against his side and holding me through the movie. Trying for nothing more than an occasional kiss against my temple. Just like I’d expect from any decent, loving boyfriend.
“What the hell happened in there?”
I brace myself against Warner’s harsh tone. “He pulled me in for a kiss and I guess the wire switched off when our chests rubbed together.”
It isn’t until his hand slides up the length of my thigh, under my skirt, that reality sinks in.
I break away from his mouth to whisper, “Slow down.”
His mouth finds my neck, his body pressing up harder, his fingers curling around the side of my panties. This has gone too far. “Luke!”
A sudden bang sounds at the door. Stanley and Licks bolt up and run over to dance in front of it, howling at the top of their lungs in a horrendous choir.
It finally grabs Luke’s attention, though, a wild, confused look clearing the heady haze from his eyes. “What the hell?” He checks the clock on the TV on his way to the door. He leans up to the peephole. “Seriously?” Luke throws open the door to find Franky standing there in a pair of jeans and a bomber jacket, a pizza box balanced in his hand.
“That’ll be twenty-two forty,” he says, his eyes surveying the condo with lightning-quick speed, zeroing in on me.
“We didn’t order pizza.”
“Yeah you did,” Franky argues, matter-of-factly.
“No.” Luke pauses. “Well, I didn’t. Unless . . .” He glances back. “Was dinner really that bad?”
I smile and shake my head. “Don’t get me started on shitty fast-food pizza.”
Franky holds up a piece of paper and scrunches his face up. Glancing at the door, and then back at the paper, he begins apologizing. “Aw, man. I’m so sorry. This dyslexia, you know? It makes me fuck numbers up sometimes. Between that and the sporadic hearing loss . . .” His eyes dart to me, and I hear the message loud and clear.
Feigning shock by opening my eyes wide, I quickly switch my wire back on, Luke’s attention still on Franky.
“No worries,” Luke says.
“Sorry about that. Good evening, miss.” He salutes and leaves. I wonder which condo isn’t getting their pizza tonight.
Luke throws his door shut and pauses to rub the back of his head, a look of bewilderment on his face. He shakes it off with a laugh. “Well, that was weird.”
Now that the haze has dispelled from around my head, I’m able to see more clearly. “Listen, I should probably get going.”
“Wait.” Luke levels me with a pleading look that I can’t peel my eyes from. “I’m really sorry about that. I shouldn’t have let it go that far. You’re just so . . . Shit.” He hangs his head and closes his eyes, guilt radiating off him.
“It’s okay. Really.” I close the distance and collect his hand in mine, lifting his knuckles to my lips in the lightest kiss, one that hopefully no one can hear.
“I won’t let that happen again, I promise. Just stay. Watch a movie with me . . .” He begins leading me backward, away from the front door. He nods toward Stanley, sitting beside Licks on a giant denim dog bed again, now that the excitement is over. “Come on. Stanley really wants to stay, see?”
“Stanley’s licking his own junk.”
“Well, you definitely don’t want to interrupt him while he’s doing that.”
“Fine. A movie and nothing else.” I drop into the couch.
“Finish this off.” I quietly watch him empty the last of the wine into my glass, my gaze wandering as he turns his focus to the plasma on the wall. The surprise guest didn’t completely kill it for him, based on the prominent bulge in his jeans. Is that why he wants me to stay? If so, he’s persistent, I’ll give him that much.
“What kind of movie do you want?” I look up to find him smirking, full well knowing where my attention just was.
My cheeks burn. “Whatever you want.”
Diving into the couch beside me, he hooks an arm around my shoulders and scrolls through a list of shows he’s recorded on the DVR, finally landing on one.
“No.”
“What? Why not? Don’t you think it’s a brilliant concept?”
“Filming people while they wander around the jungle naked is not brilliant. It’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard of.”
“Fine.” He keeps scrolling until he reaches a string of American Idol episodes.
“Chef Boyardee and reality TV? Seriously, are you twelve? Give me that!” I yank the remote from his hand and begin scanning the movie channels, looking for something that’s at least vaguely stimulating to my brain. Wondering how the hell anyone could be grooming this guy to run an international car theft ring.
He’s nothing but amused, easily relinquishing control, seemingly happy to twirl the ends of my hair and let me choose some action adventure with robots and dinosaurs and a hot male actor.
Luke keeps his word, pulling me against his side and holding me through the movie. Trying for nothing more than an occasional kiss against my temple. Just like I’d expect from any decent, loving boyfriend.
“What the hell happened in there?”
I brace myself against Warner’s harsh tone. “He pulled me in for a kiss and I guess the wire switched off when our chests rubbed together.”
