Legal Briefs
Page 15
Gab and Jess got up and came around to help me up into my jacket, while Adam stood up and quickly put his coat on and got his keys out. Then wishing everyone a good evening, he came over and put an arm around my shoulders and helped me out.
His car wasn’t far away and he opened the door and helped me inside. I slumped into the seat and started looking around for the seatbelt but he beat me to it, reaching over and strapping me in. As he was leaning over, I put my arm around him and pulled him toward me. Then I leaned forward, and burying my nose against his neck, inhaled deeply.
“You smell nice,” I said thickly.
He froze for a second and I could feel his breathing quicken. Then he turned and leaned in to nuzzle my neck, breathing in deeply and sighing. I could feel his beard and his lips and his warm breath against my sensitive skin and my lady bits got all warm and tingly. I got the distinct impression that he would have liked to have stayed there longer, but he pulled away.
“So do you,” he said in a husky voice. “I could smell your perfume in here after you left the other night and it drove me nuts all the way home.”
He went around to the driver’s side and slid in beside me, pausing and looking at me and shaking his head.
“I don’t even know if you’re going to make it up the stairs,” he said with a laugh.
“You might have to help me.”
“Might have to help you? You mean I might have to carry you.”
“I’m sorry I’m drunk.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’m sorry I crawled across your friend.”
“That wasn’t really your fault either. He could have helped you over there a lot faster and without putting his hands on your ass.”
“Now you sound like you’re jealous,” I teased.
“I’ll let you reassure me when you’re sober.”
“Can I touch you?” I asked coquettishly. I knew I was being naughty, but I didn’t really care very much at that moment. Okay, I didn’t care at all.
“That depends on where you want to touch me,” he answered with a startled laugh, glancing over at me. I liked that I had surprised him with my flirting.
“Where do you want me to touch you?” I asked with a giggle.
“Okay, God. This is a test, right?” he asked, glancing up and sounding kind of desperate.
“I was kidding. I just wanted to touch your beard. Your five o’clock shadow kind of fascinates me for some reason. Do you shave every morning?”
“Yes, that’s a good touch. And yes, I shave every morning. My beard just grows fast.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said and reached out to gently brush the backs of my fingers along his jaw. “It feels prickly but your skin is so soft at the same time.”
“That feels good,” he said, swallowing and leaning into my touch. “Your hands are soft.”
“You can thank Bruce for that.” I giggled, tracing the line of his sideburn lightly. “I can hardly remember what you look like clean-shaven now. I guess I’ll have to check you in the morning sometime,” I teased, as I traced his jawline with the tips of my fingers.
“Jesus, Lily.” He let out a slightly ragged breath. “You drive me so crazy sometimes.”
“What did I do now?” I asked defensively, pulling my hand back.
“Not crazy bad, crazy good. Touching time is over now, though. I need to think about baseball for a few minutes.”
As Maroon Five sang One More Night, I settled back into my side of the car, and while he thought about baseball, I thought about how his beard would feel against the skin of my inner thighs.
Chapter Eight
“Where are we?” I asked a few minutes later. Even in my drunken state, I knew that my building didn’t have a parking garage.
“Somewhere with a working elevator,” he said, shutting off the engine and turning to me. “You are about to become the only woman, other than my mother and sisters, who has ever seen my apartment.” He got out and came over to my side, opened the door and reached across to unbuckle me. As he did, I couldn’t resist, I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. It was so thick and soft. He froze and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a second.
“It’s your goal in life to torture me, isn’t it?” he asked hoarsely, moving again to unfasten my belt. He put an arm around me and helped me to my feet.
“I could make you feel really good, baby.” I repeated his line from the club with a giggle. Suddenly, however, anxiety reared its ugly head. “What’s going to happen if I’m not a challenge anymore? I don’t need any more rejection, Adam. I get plenty of that from my family.”
In vino veritas as they say. It didn’t really sink in at the time that I had just voiced my deepest pain and fear in a parking garage to a guy who had once intentionally left deli meat in my gym locker over winter break.
“You, Ms. Adler, will always be a challenge. And allow me to repeat, I’ve never brought a woman to my apartment before. Perhaps when your brain is no longer pickled, you’ll find some significance in that.”
The elevator arrived and he helped me in, slid a card and pushed seven. I turned around to face him. I wasn’t done yet! Oh, no siree Bob! I was on an In Vino Veritas Roll, baby! I probably would have confessed to anything at that point.
“Do you know why the characters in my book look like us?”
“Pure coincidence?” he asked with a smile.
“Because I was fantasizing about us doing all those things together when I wrote it.”
“Are you trying to make me cry?”
We arrived at our floor and he helped me out and to his apartment. He unlocked the door and flicked on the lights, helping me out of my coat. Thankfully, my head was finally starting to clear a little bit. I took a quick look around and saw a tasteful, understated, masculine atmosphere.
“This is nice, Adam, no empty pizza boxes, no neon beer signs. Why haven’t you brought other women here?”
“Because this is my private space, and bringing someone here is an act of intimacy. Do you feel like you need to puke? If so, I need you to step away from the suede couch.”
“Well, that started out really nicely,” I said, rolling my eyes. “No, I’m not going to puke.” I sat down on the suede couch and he came in to where I was sitting and handed me a glass of iced water.
“I’m going to go find you something to change into just in case,” he said, walking off somewhere. He was back a couple of minutes later holding a T-shirt with a picture of McGruff the Crime Dog on it. He was kidding, right?
His car wasn’t far away and he opened the door and helped me inside. I slumped into the seat and started looking around for the seatbelt but he beat me to it, reaching over and strapping me in. As he was leaning over, I put my arm around him and pulled him toward me. Then I leaned forward, and burying my nose against his neck, inhaled deeply.
“You smell nice,” I said thickly.
He froze for a second and I could feel his breathing quicken. Then he turned and leaned in to nuzzle my neck, breathing in deeply and sighing. I could feel his beard and his lips and his warm breath against my sensitive skin and my lady bits got all warm and tingly. I got the distinct impression that he would have liked to have stayed there longer, but he pulled away.
“So do you,” he said in a husky voice. “I could smell your perfume in here after you left the other night and it drove me nuts all the way home.”
He went around to the driver’s side and slid in beside me, pausing and looking at me and shaking his head.
“I don’t even know if you’re going to make it up the stairs,” he said with a laugh.
“You might have to help me.”
“Might have to help you? You mean I might have to carry you.”
“I’m sorry I’m drunk.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I’m sorry I crawled across your friend.”
“That wasn’t really your fault either. He could have helped you over there a lot faster and without putting his hands on your ass.”
“Now you sound like you’re jealous,” I teased.
“I’ll let you reassure me when you’re sober.”
“Can I touch you?” I asked coquettishly. I knew I was being naughty, but I didn’t really care very much at that moment. Okay, I didn’t care at all.
“That depends on where you want to touch me,” he answered with a startled laugh, glancing over at me. I liked that I had surprised him with my flirting.
“Where do you want me to touch you?” I asked with a giggle.
“Okay, God. This is a test, right?” he asked, glancing up and sounding kind of desperate.
“I was kidding. I just wanted to touch your beard. Your five o’clock shadow kind of fascinates me for some reason. Do you shave every morning?”
“Yes, that’s a good touch. And yes, I shave every morning. My beard just grows fast.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said and reached out to gently brush the backs of my fingers along his jaw. “It feels prickly but your skin is so soft at the same time.”
“That feels good,” he said, swallowing and leaning into my touch. “Your hands are soft.”
“You can thank Bruce for that.” I giggled, tracing the line of his sideburn lightly. “I can hardly remember what you look like clean-shaven now. I guess I’ll have to check you in the morning sometime,” I teased, as I traced his jawline with the tips of my fingers.
“Jesus, Lily.” He let out a slightly ragged breath. “You drive me so crazy sometimes.”
“What did I do now?” I asked defensively, pulling my hand back.
“Not crazy bad, crazy good. Touching time is over now, though. I need to think about baseball for a few minutes.”
As Maroon Five sang One More Night, I settled back into my side of the car, and while he thought about baseball, I thought about how his beard would feel against the skin of my inner thighs.
Chapter Eight
“Where are we?” I asked a few minutes later. Even in my drunken state, I knew that my building didn’t have a parking garage.
“Somewhere with a working elevator,” he said, shutting off the engine and turning to me. “You are about to become the only woman, other than my mother and sisters, who has ever seen my apartment.” He got out and came over to my side, opened the door and reached across to unbuckle me. As he did, I couldn’t resist, I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. It was so thick and soft. He froze and breathed in deeply, closing his eyes for a second.
“It’s your goal in life to torture me, isn’t it?” he asked hoarsely, moving again to unfasten my belt. He put an arm around me and helped me to my feet.
“I could make you feel really good, baby.” I repeated his line from the club with a giggle. Suddenly, however, anxiety reared its ugly head. “What’s going to happen if I’m not a challenge anymore? I don’t need any more rejection, Adam. I get plenty of that from my family.”
In vino veritas as they say. It didn’t really sink in at the time that I had just voiced my deepest pain and fear in a parking garage to a guy who had once intentionally left deli meat in my gym locker over winter break.
“You, Ms. Adler, will always be a challenge. And allow me to repeat, I’ve never brought a woman to my apartment before. Perhaps when your brain is no longer pickled, you’ll find some significance in that.”
The elevator arrived and he helped me in, slid a card and pushed seven. I turned around to face him. I wasn’t done yet! Oh, no siree Bob! I was on an In Vino Veritas Roll, baby! I probably would have confessed to anything at that point.
“Do you know why the characters in my book look like us?”
“Pure coincidence?” he asked with a smile.
“Because I was fantasizing about us doing all those things together when I wrote it.”
“Are you trying to make me cry?”
We arrived at our floor and he helped me out and to his apartment. He unlocked the door and flicked on the lights, helping me out of my coat. Thankfully, my head was finally starting to clear a little bit. I took a quick look around and saw a tasteful, understated, masculine atmosphere.
“This is nice, Adam, no empty pizza boxes, no neon beer signs. Why haven’t you brought other women here?”
“Because this is my private space, and bringing someone here is an act of intimacy. Do you feel like you need to puke? If so, I need you to step away from the suede couch.”
“Well, that started out really nicely,” I said, rolling my eyes. “No, I’m not going to puke.” I sat down on the suede couch and he came in to where I was sitting and handed me a glass of iced water.
“I’m going to go find you something to change into just in case,” he said, walking off somewhere. He was back a couple of minutes later holding a T-shirt with a picture of McGruff the Crime Dog on it. He was kidding, right?
