Fling
Page 9
“I visited the family for a few days. It’s always good to go home.”
“In Ohio?” I ask, and immediately wish I could retract it. I shouldn’t know he’s from Ohio, he’s literally mentioned it one time, and, well, he wasn’t even speaking to me. I overheard it. It’s official, I’m pathetic.
But he doesn’t seem to notice my stalker question because he replies no, that his parents retired to Savannah a few years ago and he went down to visit them.
“What about you? Did you have a good holiday with your family?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Are they local?” he asks, because you know, he’s not stalking me so he doesn’t have this information tucked away.
“I’m from Delaware. The Newark area,” I answer, naming a city that’s about an hour from Philadelphia as my phone buzzes and I scramble to open my clutch, grateful for the interruption. It’s Everly.
Home yet?
No.
How is it going?
Awkward.
Huh, really?
Terrible.
But you’re almost home?
Probably five minutes.
“Everything okay?” Gabe asks as I stuff the phone back in my clutch.
“Yeah, fine. Thank you. My turn is coming up, take a left on Presidential.”
He nods, but doesn’t say anything.
“The seat warmer is nice,” I offer. I need to shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
We’re stopped at a light and he glances down at my bare legs on his heated leather car seat and smirks. “I would imagine so,” he says.
The light changes and I direct him to my apartment. He pulls into a space in front of my building and puts the car in park.
“Thanks again, thank you. For the ride.” Nice babbling, Sandra. “Okay, thanks!” I add and throw the car door open, slamming it shut behind me. I make it to the front of the car before I hear a second car door slam and see Gabe moving to the front of the car as well.
“What are you doing?”
“Walking you to your door,” he says, with a smile. “It’s late, and dark,” he adds, glancing around.
Of course. Of course he would do that. I nod and start walking, his footsteps solid and reassuring behind me. The sidewalks have been salted due to the cold weather and my heels crunch over the granules as I walk. My bare legs are freezing and I’m really missing the pants I was wearing when I left home. I reach my door and dig out my key.
“This is me,” I say, shoving the key into the lock. I turn and find him standing there, hands in his coat pocket, silent. Um, what else am I supposed to say? He cocks an eyebrow, even more adorable with his glasses on, but says nothing. It feels like a million years of awkward silence pass. What is he waiting for? Oh, I should thank him. “Thank you for walking me to the door,” I say, thumbing behind me. “Okay, thanks. Goodnight,” I add, then slip inside and shut the door.
I’m an idiot. That was the most embarrassing ten minutes of my life.
I slump against the closed door and drop my head into my hands. What did I think was going to happen? That he’d invite himself in? Kiss me? Bend me over the couch and fuck me like he read that stupid quiz and he feels the same?
Not likely, silly. I sigh and push off the door, hanging my coat in the hall closet as I walk towards my kitchen. Good thing I stocked up on ice cream when I went to the grocery store this week. I think I’ve got a pint of Rocky Road. And strawberry. I might have both, I think defiantly as I step out of my heels in front of the freezer. My hand is on the tub of strawberry when there’s a knock on my door.
I leave the ice cream and walk back to the door in my bare feet. Did someone really just knock on my door, or am I hearing things? I wonder as I peer through the peep-hole.
Not crazy. Gabe is still standing outside my door.
My heart thuds in my chest. Holy oh, my God. Gabe Laurent is standing on my doorstep. Because he didn’t leave after I shut the door. Which can only mean one thing, even I know that.
I swing the door open. He’s leaning on one arm against the doorframe and he’s silent as I gaze up at him, a few inches taller than before, with my heels off now. Then he’s stepping forward and pulling me to him as he kicks the door shut. He doesn’t say a word, instead roughly grasps the back of my neck and dips his head to meet my lips. And his lips? They feel like everything I’ve ever imagined they would. Soft, yet aggressive. Commanding. The lock clicks on the door and then his other hand lands on my hip, guiding me backwards into the room.
“Undress,” he demands, breaking away from me. I’m still leaning forward, my mind trying to catch up with the fact that his lips are gone.
“What?”
“Take off your clothes,” he instructs, shrugging out of his winter coat. He doesn’t take his eyes off of mine as he tosses the coat at the back of my couch.
I hesitate, glancing down at my outfit. There’s not much between what I’m wearing and complete nudity; the only undergarment I have on is a pair of black panties. My bra was ditched with my shirt and pants when Everly gave me this party makeover.
“Do you want me to leave, Sandra?”
I finger the button on my blazer. Do I? “Do you want a drink or something?” I ask instead of answering, glancing away from him to the kitchen. Do I have anything I could offer Gabe? An open bottle of wine or diet soda. Unlikely he wants either.
“No.” He shakes his head, a smirk on his face as he loosens his tie. “No, I’m not interested in a drink.”
I swallow and nod. This is real. This is happening. Gabe wants me. This is not a figment of my imagination. Time to own it, Sandra.
I unbutton the blazer and slip it off my shoulders, letting it hit the floor behind me as I flick my eyes up to watch Gabe’s reaction. He rubs his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger and gives me the slightest nod, a silent instruction to continue. I suck in a breath and hook my thumbs into the skirt, then slide it over my hips until it too is pooled on the floor with my blazer. I’m left bare save for my panties.
“Don’t stop,” he says, several feet in front of me, his eyes locked on mine. He’s still fully dressed and it makes me feel dirty in the best possible way.
“In Ohio?” I ask, and immediately wish I could retract it. I shouldn’t know he’s from Ohio, he’s literally mentioned it one time, and, well, he wasn’t even speaking to me. I overheard it. It’s official, I’m pathetic.
But he doesn’t seem to notice my stalker question because he replies no, that his parents retired to Savannah a few years ago and he went down to visit them.
“What about you? Did you have a good holiday with your family?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Are they local?” he asks, because you know, he’s not stalking me so he doesn’t have this information tucked away.
“I’m from Delaware. The Newark area,” I answer, naming a city that’s about an hour from Philadelphia as my phone buzzes and I scramble to open my clutch, grateful for the interruption. It’s Everly.
Home yet?
No.
How is it going?
Awkward.
Huh, really?
Terrible.
But you’re almost home?
Probably five minutes.
“Everything okay?” Gabe asks as I stuff the phone back in my clutch.
“Yeah, fine. Thank you. My turn is coming up, take a left on Presidential.”
He nods, but doesn’t say anything.
“The seat warmer is nice,” I offer. I need to shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up.
We’re stopped at a light and he glances down at my bare legs on his heated leather car seat and smirks. “I would imagine so,” he says.
The light changes and I direct him to my apartment. He pulls into a space in front of my building and puts the car in park.
“Thanks again, thank you. For the ride.” Nice babbling, Sandra. “Okay, thanks!” I add and throw the car door open, slamming it shut behind me. I make it to the front of the car before I hear a second car door slam and see Gabe moving to the front of the car as well.
“What are you doing?”
“Walking you to your door,” he says, with a smile. “It’s late, and dark,” he adds, glancing around.
Of course. Of course he would do that. I nod and start walking, his footsteps solid and reassuring behind me. The sidewalks have been salted due to the cold weather and my heels crunch over the granules as I walk. My bare legs are freezing and I’m really missing the pants I was wearing when I left home. I reach my door and dig out my key.
“This is me,” I say, shoving the key into the lock. I turn and find him standing there, hands in his coat pocket, silent. Um, what else am I supposed to say? He cocks an eyebrow, even more adorable with his glasses on, but says nothing. It feels like a million years of awkward silence pass. What is he waiting for? Oh, I should thank him. “Thank you for walking me to the door,” I say, thumbing behind me. “Okay, thanks. Goodnight,” I add, then slip inside and shut the door.
I’m an idiot. That was the most embarrassing ten minutes of my life.
I slump against the closed door and drop my head into my hands. What did I think was going to happen? That he’d invite himself in? Kiss me? Bend me over the couch and fuck me like he read that stupid quiz and he feels the same?
Not likely, silly. I sigh and push off the door, hanging my coat in the hall closet as I walk towards my kitchen. Good thing I stocked up on ice cream when I went to the grocery store this week. I think I’ve got a pint of Rocky Road. And strawberry. I might have both, I think defiantly as I step out of my heels in front of the freezer. My hand is on the tub of strawberry when there’s a knock on my door.
I leave the ice cream and walk back to the door in my bare feet. Did someone really just knock on my door, or am I hearing things? I wonder as I peer through the peep-hole.
Not crazy. Gabe is still standing outside my door.
My heart thuds in my chest. Holy oh, my God. Gabe Laurent is standing on my doorstep. Because he didn’t leave after I shut the door. Which can only mean one thing, even I know that.
I swing the door open. He’s leaning on one arm against the doorframe and he’s silent as I gaze up at him, a few inches taller than before, with my heels off now. Then he’s stepping forward and pulling me to him as he kicks the door shut. He doesn’t say a word, instead roughly grasps the back of my neck and dips his head to meet my lips. And his lips? They feel like everything I’ve ever imagined they would. Soft, yet aggressive. Commanding. The lock clicks on the door and then his other hand lands on my hip, guiding me backwards into the room.
“Undress,” he demands, breaking away from me. I’m still leaning forward, my mind trying to catch up with the fact that his lips are gone.
“What?”
“Take off your clothes,” he instructs, shrugging out of his winter coat. He doesn’t take his eyes off of mine as he tosses the coat at the back of my couch.
I hesitate, glancing down at my outfit. There’s not much between what I’m wearing and complete nudity; the only undergarment I have on is a pair of black panties. My bra was ditched with my shirt and pants when Everly gave me this party makeover.
“Do you want me to leave, Sandra?”
I finger the button on my blazer. Do I? “Do you want a drink or something?” I ask instead of answering, glancing away from him to the kitchen. Do I have anything I could offer Gabe? An open bottle of wine or diet soda. Unlikely he wants either.
“No.” He shakes his head, a smirk on his face as he loosens his tie. “No, I’m not interested in a drink.”
I swallow and nod. This is real. This is happening. Gabe wants me. This is not a figment of my imagination. Time to own it, Sandra.
I unbutton the blazer and slip it off my shoulders, letting it hit the floor behind me as I flick my eyes up to watch Gabe’s reaction. He rubs his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger and gives me the slightest nod, a silent instruction to continue. I suck in a breath and hook my thumbs into the skirt, then slide it over my hips until it too is pooled on the floor with my blazer. I’m left bare save for my panties.
“Don’t stop,” he says, several feet in front of me, his eyes locked on mine. He’s still fully dressed and it makes me feel dirty in the best possible way.
