February 8, 2014
posted by Adam Scull
Angie’s eyes opened slowly. The room came into focus. Patrick had decorated it in the masculine colors of dark gray and burgundy, and it was a still a pleasant room. He kept it clean, which was surprising to her. She had no brothers, but she had seen a couple of college dorm rooms that were pretty scary.
The morning light drifted through the blinds, waking her further. There was a warmth spreading over her backside and just across her middle. She was tempted to bask in just being held like this. Several days ago, she might have panicked at the intimacy. What was it about being wanted by someone that made it so compelling? She looked down at the arm resting over her belly. It was muscled and lightly sprinkled with hair. They were so different, she mused. He all hard planes and power, she with her slighter form and vulnerable. Angie didn’t admit it easily, but she knew she was vulnerable against him. Patrick could hurt her easily. He was much stronger. And yet, there was something about him that drew her to him. He was more than just power, more than his wealth. He was a good man.
She sat up and turned to look at him. Patrick’s eyes were closed in sleep, almost lending an innocence to his face. Angie traced the rest of his body with her gaze, reveling in his hard muscles and lines, everything that had brought her such pleasure the previous night. Without conscious thought, she lowered her lips to the tight muscle of his bicep. When she drew away, he still slept.
She thought of how far they’d come in the week since they’d met, or rather how much she’d changed. As she looked at him, her chest ached a little. She knew it could head no place good. Her defenses were crumbling and she was helpless to stop it. She knew she felt different. She felt more for him in the span of a week than she’d ever felt in a night with another man. He was her ultimate weakness. He’d brought out passion in her, something she hadn’t realized was missing in her life. He made her feel with his claims that he wanted more than the physical. It would be idiocy to let it go on.
Resolved, Angie rose and steeled herself against turning back. She took a shower. She told herself she was leaving. If her heart clenched at the idea, she swallowed past the lump in her throat. After she was finished with her shower, she toweled off and dressed. She ran a brush through her hair and prepared to leave the house quietly. When she began to amble down the hallway on her tiptoes, she jumped when the front door opened.
Patrick came in and grinned upon seeing her. “Good morning,” he said and kissed her. “I brought rations.”
She released an unsteady breath as he swept past her. Curious, she followed him to the dining room, where he set a bag down. He delved inside and brought out two coffees and two huge blueberry muffins. Her stomach growled.
Patrick laughed. “I can fix some eggs too, if you like.”
“No, this is fine. Thank you.”
He smiled. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“You did.” The thoughtful gesture moved her more than she cared to admit.
“Please…sit down.”
Angie did. She sipped at the coffee and ate the giant muffin quietly. When she realized where she was, her cheeks flamed. Images of her lying across the table while Patrick devoured her like a gourmet meal came to mind. She closed her eyes.
“You all right, Angie?”
Her eyes flew open. His blue gaze was disconcerting. “Yes, of course.”
“You should play hooky today,” he commented.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I have to work.”
He glanced away, but she could tell he was disappointed.
“I’ll come back tonight,” she promised.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
She nodded, then finished her coffee and muffin. Then she rose and crossed to his side of the table, where she kissed his cheek. “I really have to go.”
Patrick nodded. “I’ll see you later then.”
Angie began to leave, but turned back to glance at him. “Thank you for breakfast.”
“Anytime, Sweetheart.”
She quickly walked out of the room and left the house. She got in her car and took a few deep breaths. Why did he have to be so wonderful?
****
Patrick spent the evening alone. He had hoped Angie would arrive earlier, but she hadn’t. He imagined she was working. Eventually, he gave up and dressed down. Actually, he was ready to go to a bar and get a beer, convinced she wasn’t coming. He was just about to grab his leather jacket when the doorbell rang. He checked the clock. It was ten-thirty. With a shrug, he went to get it.
Angie was standing there with a hand propped on the frame of the door as he opened it.
“Hello,” he offered.
“Hi.”
“Did you just get off of work?”
She nodded. “Almost an hour ago.” She was wearing a long sleeved black dress that hugged her curves. It stopped mid-thigh and she wore tall, black velvet high-heeled boots. She also carried a small black purse.
His mouth was suddenly dry. “Ah…please come in.”
“Sure.” Angie eased past him, teasing him with her heady fragrance.
Patrick closed the door. When he saw her head for the living room, he went after her like a dog on a trail. For God’s sake, why did she have to be so seductive? He tried not to imagine all of the men who’d watched her or touched her at the club tonight. Of course, he wanted to do permanent damage to them all. It was her job, he reminded himself. She wasn’t going to quit it on his account.
“Do you want some wine?” he asked her in an attempt to distract himself.
She smiled slowly. “Actually, I think I will. I’m starting to like red. Like you.”
“Yeah. That’s my favorite.” He felt a little ridiculous with what he’d said so he left the room to pour the wine. When he returned, she was checking out his CD collection. He handed her the glass and she murmured a thank you. He watched her sip the wine, gazed at the line of her perfect throat. More than anything, Patrick wanted to put his hands on her, to erase any of the terrible memories she had of other men. He imagined there were quite a lot. He knew her sexual experience was limited, despite her profession. That protective instinct kicked in again.
Mine, his mind screamed. But, Angie was an independent woman. She didn’t want to be owned. She might not even want him that way. She might not want a relationship. He was serious about her, he realized. His throat grew tight. So did his chest. When the impact of his feelings finally hit him, he wasn’t prepared. With wide eyes, he gazed at her back. She might not want what he was willing to give. This was getting complicated.
“We have some of the same tastes in music,” she observed in her soft voice.
His lids slammed closed. He realized he could listen to her for hours and not get bored. He loved hearing her laugh. He loved…
He cleared his throat. “That’s good though. Right?”
“Hmm.”
Her noncommittal reply left him feeling hollow.
“I brought something for tonight. I’ll go change.”
“Angie.”
She turned to face him. “Yes?”
Patrick shook his head. “You don’t have to. I told you the money doesn’t matter. The job doesn’t. You don’t have to-“
“Don’t be silly. I want to do this. I enjoy…I enjoy this.”
“Oh.” He gripped the stem of his wineglass and forced himself to relax before it shattered. “All right.”
He watched her leave the room, then drank down the entire glass of wine. He was going to need it. He couldn’t seem to get his head straight around her.
Five minutes later, Angie returned, dressed in a black baby doll dress tied at the center with a white bow. She wore a matching g-string and had kept her boots on.
Patrick approached her and lifted her chin. Then he put his mouth on hers, gently moving his lips. He detected a slight tremble beneath him as he applied more pressure. When he heard her sigh, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. Then he slipped his tongue in her mouth, caressing hers just as gently as he had her lips.
She moaned. “Patrick,” she whispered.
“Yes?”
“Are you seducing me?”
He chuckled. “How am I doing?”
“Mmm…” She tilted her neck back and he raced his lips over her throat, inhaling her delicate scent. “I wanted to dance for you.”
“Yeah?” He kissed her neck. “We still can.”
“Okay.” She stepped away and looked at him.
He accepted her gaze upon him even though it was hell to his libido.
“I can still dance for you?”
Patrick nodded.
“Good. Then are you coming?” Angie asked huskily.
He frowned, but then finally realized what she meant. He followed her down the hall to the bedroom.
(This section has been cut for the excerpt on the site.)
“Tell me what it is you want, Angie,” he whispered.
Her lashes fluttered as he leaned over her. “You know what I want,” she said softly.
“Can you finally admit what it is you hate to admit then?”
Angie arched a bit as he moved a hand from her belly up between her breasts. “I want you,” she hissed.
“That’s funny. It seems we have some sort of agreement. Will you stop denying it then?”
She nodded.
He was floored for a moment. He had expected the game to continue. What was she playing at?
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