Unrequited
Page 8
Too soon, we arrive on my floor and I drag myself off her again, pulling her down the hallway. “Slow down,” she giggles, stumbling after me. Her face is bright with exhilaration, and I feel a fierce stab of pride that I’m the one who’s making her laugh like this -- that I chased the shadows from her delicate smile.
She should never look so sad again.
“Where are we going?” Alicia gasps, and I can’t make it another step without claiming her mouth again.
God, she’s too damn sweet. Those luscious lips, that darting pink tongue...
“I’m going to taste every inch of you,” I promise, running one hand down her body. She shivers under my touch, her breath coming fast. “I’m going to feel you break under my tongue.”
Alicia clings to me, her eyes hazy with desire.
Damn, I need her naked. Now.
I get us to the end of the hallway and fumble for the keys, unlocking the door. I pick her up and stride inside the apartment, slamming the door behind us and flipping on the lights.
Alicia glances around at the leather couches and sleek chrome and glass furniture. “This is your place?” she asks, pausing.
I nibble at her earlobe, lust still raging in my blood. “My brother, Ash’s,” I reply, not looking. I’m more interested in the curve of her neck, right here, but Alicia breaks away from me and takes a few steps inside.
“I thought so,” she murmurs, looking around more carefully. “This isn’t you at all.”
I stop, curious now. “What do you mean?”
Alicia gives a bashful smile. “I mean it’s too clean.”
“Thanks!” I laugh.
“No, I mean, it’s stark. Beautiful, but, too ordered. You’re more chaotic than this.”
I look around, seeing it through her eyes. The flat-screen TV, the minimal grey rugs and monochrome framed art. She’s right. My place back in LA was a converted warehouse downtown, all bare brick walls and massive graffiti murals. Even the beach house I just finished is a study in contrasts: light and shadow, color and life. Ash’s place looks like it’s been ripped from some fancy design magazine, and hell, knowing him, it probably was.
But she noticed. Alicia’s spent barely an hour with me, and already, she saw through this place.
I look at her with a new respect. “Ash is the control freak in the family,” I explain, walking over to his spotless kitchen area. I still need her, more than anything, but we’ve got time now.
We’ve got all night.
“Want a drink?” I ask.
“Yes please.” Alicia follows me. “Is he older or younger?”
“Ash is the oldest. Then me, Blake, and our baby sister, Tegan. Well, she’s just about to turn twenty-one, but she’ll always be the baby to us.” I feel a pang, dark memories crowding in, but I push them back. I find a bottle of whiskey and pour myself a glass. “There’s soda in the fridge, I think?” I offer, but Alicia gives me an arched look.
“Whiskey is fine.”
I slide the glass over, and watch as she takes a delicate sip.
“Single malt?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Laphroaig,” I agree, impressed. “Ash flies it in from Scotland. He’s a picky bastard like that.”
“You must be close, your family,” she says, still looking around. Ash has a photo of us all framed on the wall, and she pauses over it.
“We are.” I nod, then quickly change the subject. “What about you? Siblings?”
She shakes her head. “Just me.” Alicia stops, and then gives a wry laugh. “That’s my catchphrase these days. ‘Just me’!”
“Nothing wrong with that.” I pour myself a glass of whiskey, but I don’t take a sip. I want to taste her, instead.
Alicia wanders back towards the living area. I watch the sway of her hips, and feel a fresh wave of lust. I know girls who’ve trained in front of mirrors to get a walk like that; everything’s a performance, everything’s planned to provoke maximum effect. But this girl, she doesn’t even notice. It’s all unconscious to her, natural as breathing.
I follow her over, dimming the lights as I go. There’s a neon glow from the world outside casting pools across the floor as Alicia takes a seat on the edge of the couch. She’s holding her drink tight with both hands, clearly nervous.
I lean over and tilt her head up to me, softly tasting her lips in a slow, long kiss.
It washes over me: the rightness, the heat. I wanted to take her hard and fast, but there’s something so sweet in her tentative response that it makes me want to take my time. Explore her inch by sensuous inch, until she’s begging for more.
Then Alicia’s lips part. Her tongue slides into my mouth, hesitant and slow, exploring.
Screw waiting.
I growl, scooping her body in my arms and sliding back, so I’m braced above her on the couch, my body pressed down the length of her luscious curves. Alicia lets out a breathy gasp, arching up against me as I kiss her deeper, demanding, gorging myself on her sweetness.
Hell, this girl is perfect. Her mouth willingly submits to my mastery; her body trembles to my touch. I grip her waist, grinding down against her, feeling every shiver and gasp as the kiss pulls us under, down into the dark, velvet ocean, where there’s nothing but taste and sensation and the hot, slow tangle of our tongues.
I lift my head and lick slowly across the pale swell of her chest.
Alicia gasps. She clutches my back, holding on for dear life as I tease and toy along the neckline of her dress. Every new shiver of her body sends a surge of heat, coiling tighter, lust thick in my veins. Fuck, I want her. I’m hard, straining against her, and every new arch and buck of her body sends friction rocking straight to my aching thickness, just begging to be buried between those sweet thighs.
She should never look so sad again.
“Where are we going?” Alicia gasps, and I can’t make it another step without claiming her mouth again.
God, she’s too damn sweet. Those luscious lips, that darting pink tongue...
“I’m going to taste every inch of you,” I promise, running one hand down her body. She shivers under my touch, her breath coming fast. “I’m going to feel you break under my tongue.”
Alicia clings to me, her eyes hazy with desire.
Damn, I need her naked. Now.
I get us to the end of the hallway and fumble for the keys, unlocking the door. I pick her up and stride inside the apartment, slamming the door behind us and flipping on the lights.
Alicia glances around at the leather couches and sleek chrome and glass furniture. “This is your place?” she asks, pausing.
I nibble at her earlobe, lust still raging in my blood. “My brother, Ash’s,” I reply, not looking. I’m more interested in the curve of her neck, right here, but Alicia breaks away from me and takes a few steps inside.
“I thought so,” she murmurs, looking around more carefully. “This isn’t you at all.”
I stop, curious now. “What do you mean?”
Alicia gives a bashful smile. “I mean it’s too clean.”
“Thanks!” I laugh.
“No, I mean, it’s stark. Beautiful, but, too ordered. You’re more chaotic than this.”
I look around, seeing it through her eyes. The flat-screen TV, the minimal grey rugs and monochrome framed art. She’s right. My place back in LA was a converted warehouse downtown, all bare brick walls and massive graffiti murals. Even the beach house I just finished is a study in contrasts: light and shadow, color and life. Ash’s place looks like it’s been ripped from some fancy design magazine, and hell, knowing him, it probably was.
But she noticed. Alicia’s spent barely an hour with me, and already, she saw through this place.
I look at her with a new respect. “Ash is the control freak in the family,” I explain, walking over to his spotless kitchen area. I still need her, more than anything, but we’ve got time now.
We’ve got all night.
“Want a drink?” I ask.
“Yes please.” Alicia follows me. “Is he older or younger?”
“Ash is the oldest. Then me, Blake, and our baby sister, Tegan. Well, she’s just about to turn twenty-one, but she’ll always be the baby to us.” I feel a pang, dark memories crowding in, but I push them back. I find a bottle of whiskey and pour myself a glass. “There’s soda in the fridge, I think?” I offer, but Alicia gives me an arched look.
“Whiskey is fine.”
I slide the glass over, and watch as she takes a delicate sip.
“Single malt?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Laphroaig,” I agree, impressed. “Ash flies it in from Scotland. He’s a picky bastard like that.”
“You must be close, your family,” she says, still looking around. Ash has a photo of us all framed on the wall, and she pauses over it.
“We are.” I nod, then quickly change the subject. “What about you? Siblings?”
She shakes her head. “Just me.” Alicia stops, and then gives a wry laugh. “That’s my catchphrase these days. ‘Just me’!”
“Nothing wrong with that.” I pour myself a glass of whiskey, but I don’t take a sip. I want to taste her, instead.
Alicia wanders back towards the living area. I watch the sway of her hips, and feel a fresh wave of lust. I know girls who’ve trained in front of mirrors to get a walk like that; everything’s a performance, everything’s planned to provoke maximum effect. But this girl, she doesn’t even notice. It’s all unconscious to her, natural as breathing.
I follow her over, dimming the lights as I go. There’s a neon glow from the world outside casting pools across the floor as Alicia takes a seat on the edge of the couch. She’s holding her drink tight with both hands, clearly nervous.
I lean over and tilt her head up to me, softly tasting her lips in a slow, long kiss.
It washes over me: the rightness, the heat. I wanted to take her hard and fast, but there’s something so sweet in her tentative response that it makes me want to take my time. Explore her inch by sensuous inch, until she’s begging for more.
Then Alicia’s lips part. Her tongue slides into my mouth, hesitant and slow, exploring.
Screw waiting.
I growl, scooping her body in my arms and sliding back, so I’m braced above her on the couch, my body pressed down the length of her luscious curves. Alicia lets out a breathy gasp, arching up against me as I kiss her deeper, demanding, gorging myself on her sweetness.
Hell, this girl is perfect. Her mouth willingly submits to my mastery; her body trembles to my touch. I grip her waist, grinding down against her, feeling every shiver and gasp as the kiss pulls us under, down into the dark, velvet ocean, where there’s nothing but taste and sensation and the hot, slow tangle of our tongues.
I lift my head and lick slowly across the pale swell of her chest.
Alicia gasps. She clutches my back, holding on for dear life as I tease and toy along the neckline of her dress. Every new shiver of her body sends a surge of heat, coiling tighter, lust thick in my veins. Fuck, I want her. I’m hard, straining against her, and every new arch and buck of her body sends friction rocking straight to my aching thickness, just begging to be buried between those sweet thighs.
