by Rowena
I don’t know why I always feel so compelled to go to him when I’m in the area. I live in L.A. and he lives in Orange County, so I guess that’s why—it’s usually a thirty-mile drive to see him otherwise, whereas my friends who live in, say, Hollywood or Studio City are just three to five miles away from me, so I can pop by anytime without feeling put out by a long drive.
That’s it, I guess—I seize the opportunity to see him while I can instead of having to make an hour drive just for that purpose.
Except I’m always more willing to hang out with him than my other friends when I’m looking for company and Bobby’s gone out of town or something. Like if I want to see a movie or check out a new restaurant, I think of him first instead of my physically closer friends.
I suppose that’s because we’re closer in other ways—I feel more comfortable around him, I enjoy his presence and personality more. And…who am I kidding? He makes my temperature rise. He has this raw masculinity about him that makes me aware of myself as a woman, and I find myself paying particular attention to my hair and makeup and what I’m wearing if I know I’m going to be around him.
He looks at me like he can’t take his eyes off of me sometimes, and I don’t know how Bobby has managed to miss that. Well, Bobby has a wandering eye himself, so I guess he’s busy himself when Reese is staring me down.
Right now I’m feeling a bit self-conscious because I’m still in my audition clothes: a pencil skirt and a blouse with my hair all formal. I was auditioning for the part of a newscaster so I at least look cute.
Wait, why am I even thinking about this? What’s wrong with me? Reese and I are just friends.
I shake my head like it can help me shake off my thoughts, but I can’t stop the anticipation building in me at the thought of seeing Reese again. Damn it, he’s so nice to look at, with his strong, muscular arms, and those blue eyes that get stuck on me. He’s a few inches taller than me and has a broad chest and a firm, masculine jaw. He sort of looks like a real, live Ken doll, albeit on the rougher side.
I think it’s funny how blind Reese is to the jealousy of the girls he dates when I’m around, but I guess he doesn’t care about their petty insecurities. Maybe I mean more to him than their desire for him to not be so close to some other female. It’s almost funny because there we’d be double-dating, with Bobby at my side and some girl at his, yet Reese and I interact the most, and only the girl gets offended by this. Those girls never stick around long anyway—definitely not long enough to sense how jealous I am of them getting used by Reese and knowing what his dick is like.
Lucky bitches.
Part of me definitely wants a piece of him, but I know we have a delicate balance to keep as friends. I don’t want to lose him, and that’ll probably happen eventually if we end up fucking each other. Things’ll just get weird.
This is so frustrating because I find myself sometimes willing to risk it all just to have a taste of him; I don’t need to eat the whole dinner.
God, if Bobby knew.
He’s on a trip right now to see one of his friends, to help him move or something, but who knows for sure? I can never quite trust he’s telling me the truth.
“Eva,” Reese says in a tortured way as I get out of the car to greet him.
He meets me at the gate and we embrace each other.
I count to two—the longest I think we should hold each other to remain proper—and then pull away from our hug.
He fixes me with burning eyes.
“Did you get my message?” he says.
I can still feel the warmth of his body on me, even though we are no longer entangled.
“No, because I was driving,” I say, and then move to check my phone, but he says, “I was just suggesting we go out for dinner. I’m pretty hungry, and it’ll be nice to grab some sushi instead of making a PB&J or something.”
I giggle. “Well, that sounds fine to me. You know I love sushi.”
“Cool, then you get to have some for your troubles. Don’t even argue with me or try to whip your card out at the end—I’m paying. You want to take my car or yours?”
“Yours,” I say, heading to his SUV.
We are both on autopilot throughout dinner, yapping about unimportant things. I tell him about my latest auditions, he talks about his work, his brother and some new car he’s thinking about buying.
I appreciate that we can talk like this, and it reminds me how good we are as friends.
We take his car back to his house and I prepare myself to leave him, but he invites me in to chill for a bit.
“Come on, you came this way—might as well hang out a bit longer. Besides, isn’t it like the worst time to get back on the road right now?”
Shit, he’s right. Fuck SoCal traffic—cars are practically parked on the highway at this time. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I had just gone home right after my audition, but now the early evening rush is here.
I concede his point—the time I would spend inching my way home I could spend with a good friend instead. Who knew the next time I’d get to see him, after all? I was truly fond of him and enjoyed his company.
Outside of that, I won’t lie—I like that he appreciates my looks and I don’t mind basking in his appreciation a bit longer. He makes me feel like the most gorgeous thing around—unlike Bobby. Bobby makes me feel so insecure, and does nothing to allay my fears that he is being unfaithful to me; in fact, I feel like he fans them deliberately. It’s like he enjoys having me all crazy worried, like it strokes his ego to have me unsure about where I stand with him. All he does is blow hot and cold and play games with me.
He hasn’t even told me he loves me yet, so I don’t know why I’m still with him—it’s killing me to feel strung along like this, to not feel treasured or loved.
I thought spending some time with his best friend would get to him a little, make him show some kind of feeling for me, but nope—he clearly doesn’t give a damn. He just likes to own me, I guess. I’m the trophy he shows off to others, then puts on the shelf.
He’s probably glad Reese makes eyes at me sometimes, proud he has something Reese admires.
I follow Reese into his home, preparing to shoot the breeze for a bit.
I start trying to think of specific things to bring up since we yapped so much at dinner and covered the usual ground, but I guess I shouldn’t think about it too hard—it’ll all flow naturally.
III.
REESE
I must keep my hands off of her. I know it.
“You want some water?” I ask Eva once she gets inside. She smiles and nods.
Man, what the hell was I thinking asking her back here?
I already had to talk myself out of seducing her earlier, and the sushi dinner was the only thing I could think of and it worked—she was at least out of the danger zone of my house; I can control myself better while out in public.
I knew without a doubt that having her come inside my place was a bad idea since, not only was she alone, but the mental presence of Bobby was lifted somewhat by his distance—that trip he’s on.
When Eva agreed to have dinner with me I could tell she had no idea how close she came to being ravaged.
I had gotten myself out of my emotional jam, and when we got back here, intended to let her go to her car and get out of here, but immediately put myself back in trouble by asking her to stay for a bit—a terrible idea, and I can feel my body temperature rising, and my senses going on high alert.
I try not look at her as we head inside, knowing I won’t be able to just keep my eyes on her face, but I lose that battle quickly.
I know I am in trouble and so is she because of it—I cannot keep my eyes off of her. I can’t stop noticing the curve of her breasts under that blouse, I can’t stop watching her round bottom in that pencil skirt, and I don’t know how to stop wondering what she looks like without her clothes.
The volatility in my body is undeniable, and I know the best thing I can do is try to rush her out o
f here sooner than later to correct my mistake.
Maybe we’ll chat for like ten minutes, max.
God, I’m stupid—that’s not enough time for her to feel she made a wise decision to wait the traffic out.
I hear thunder rumble in the distance.
Maybe I’ll put on the TV and we can watch something stupid for a bit—some reality show or something.
I bring her some water and she thanks me, and as I take her glass back to the kitchen, she says, “Great—gotta pee now.”
Good. Focus on that, Reese, that’s not sexy at all.
But somehow it is.
She disappears in the bathroom, and my brain imagines her in there, hiking up her skirt.
I grab the remote and turn on the TV and start flipping through, trying to distract myself by the random blur of images.
It doesn’t work, however, and just hearing her leave the bathroom, about to be in the room with me again works me up some more.
If I don’t push her out of here soon, her time will be up.
She sits next to me as I flip through the channels and we end up settling on some game show.
Excellent. Perfect for friends to watch and kill a chunk of time. We just have to do this for half an hour or so, and she’ll be out of here and safe from my increasing carnal desire.
I am able to relax only a little, for she is sitting right next to me—a few inches away, but still, far too close.
I can feel the heat from her body, see the outlines of her curves, and goddammit, she’s right there within my reach! I can throw my arms around her, rip her clothes off easily.
Just don’t look at her, I remind myself. Pretend it’s someone else sitting there with you.
Eva seems oblivious to the turmoil within me.
But as the show nears its end, her hand reaches out and gently touches my knee, stilling my leg from an incessant shaking I didn’t realize it had been going through.
Her touch both calms me and fires me up a bit more, the burn of contact remaining after she withdraws her hand.
As the show nears its end, I can feel her preparing to leave and my heart starts to bleed, missing her already.
I frantically start flipping through the channels for something else, even though she has gotten up.
Finally, I drop the remote and stand.
She says, “Well, thanks for the sushi. The roads should better now,” then she smiles and turns away.
Watching her back as she heads to the door, I snap.
IV.
EVA
“You can’t go back out there—there’s a storm coming,” Reese says, and I know it’s true since we caught bits about it while channel-flipping earlier, but something tells me to get out of there now.
“I still have time,” I say, heading to the door anyway, but he gets there before I can open it fully and slams it back in place.
“No, you don’t,” he says in a rumbling voice close to my ear that sends all my nerves on edge.
As if to underscore his actions, a loud clap of thunder sounds and I see a flash of lightning out of the corner of my eye.
I watch him lock all three locks as he says, “How long do you think it will take you to get home?”
“About an hour.”
“And which direction is the storm coming from?”
I let out a breath and realize how hard I’m breathing.
He’s right—driving through the first rains of a downpour like this is risky—it’s best to wait it out.
Reese finally pulls away, allowing me the space to turn back toward the couch.
“Glad I can talk some sense into you,” he says. “No one is interested in losing you to some silly headstrong action—not Bobby, and not me. You know how some of those drivers are when it rains. Why are you in such a hurry to get out of here anyway?”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that because I’m pretty sure he knows.
Still, I couldn’t exactly say, Because I have a feeling you’re going to try to fuck me! I couldn’t state the obvious out loud. Besides, what if I was wrong? What if I went ahead and spoke my fears and he just looked at me in disgust, wondering how the hell I got so vain and delusional?
God, I wouldn’t be able to bear that.
The storm rages outside, and its electricity seems to have been tunneled into the room.
We are sitting a few inches apart on the couch, still flipping through the channels when realization suddenly slams into me.
I don’t know if it’s pheromones or what, but impending sex is definitely in the air—the scent of it is all over him. It’s as if he is already covered in me.
I am finally out of time and can no longer look at him, though I feel his eyes burning into me. He’s like an animal about to pounce.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask quietly.
“Because you’re beautiful,” he says in soft, almost faraway voice, and there’s no doubt I’m in trouble.
“Need some fresh air,” I manage to say and I stand to head for the door.
But before I can take a single step, his hand is on my wrist in an iron-like grip and I am forced to look at him.
“Stay,” he says in a way that sounds like a request, but I know it isn’t.
I sit back down slowly with my legs together, and his grip loosens until he is no longer holding my arm.
I am fidgeting and still unable to look at him—I can’t help it.
I know what’s coming, but I haven’t given up on trying to avoid it.
My eyes turn to the door.
“Don’t even try it,” he says, his voice still soft. “Or that’s where you’ll get it.”
There’s no room for misinterpretation in those words, and my heart beats impossibly faster.
I am alive with fear of what’s to come, the proclamation from him that essentially, I am doomed.
“How long we do this dance is up to you,” he says, eyes still intently on me. I can’t ignore them even though I am looking away.
How is it up to me though? It’s not like I’m about to just jump on him.
If anything was up to me, we wouldn’t be in this position; I’m not sure I’m ready for this.
Drawing it out makes me more nervous and tricks me into thinking I still have a shot at escaping.
I find myself easily falling back into denial.
There’s no way he meant what I thought he meant, I think.
I haven’t been able to come up with alternate explanations, but I convince myself he had to have been talking in riddles about something else.
I stand again quickly, and he doesn’t grab my hand this time, so I keep up the illusion that I can safely step outside for some air, and perhaps wait there under the porch shelter. I don’t care if I get a little wet waiting the storm out there.
“What are you doing?” I say when I realize his hand has pushed closed the door I had just managed to unlock and swing open.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, or maybe I should say growled.
I’m aware of him locking all the locks again as my heart rate increases even more, and I have started breathing heavily.
I am suddenly terrified.
I know it will be useless to stand there and try to unlock all those locks with him breathing down my neck, pretty much right up against me, so instead I turn to him.
I am trapped between him and the door as his hands remain pressed against it.
“What is it, Reese?” I ask, my voice shaking as I slowly bring my eyes to his.
I can see he is breathing hard, and the intensity in his blue eyes terrifies me even more.
“I’m going to have you,” he says, and I don’t know what to say next.
The next thing I know his head is coming toward me and his lips are on mine. His tongue has found its way inside my mouth, and the intimate oral contact takes some of my edge off, and he almost convinces me to give in immediately.
My body is now on his side, curious to find out more, but
my brain still knows this is a terrible idea.
I turn my head, breaking the kiss, and stay there with my back against the door, trying to come up with a plan. But in no time, he grabs my hand and starts leading me back toward his room.
“No!” I say, trying to twist my hand away from his iron grip. I start slapping at his hand and arm, and he turns once to send me a glare.
I decide to try words instead.
“Reese, please, you’re scaring me! What is it you’re planning to do?”
“I’m going to have you in my bed,” he says. “I’m going to push myself between your legs, and finally feel the lips of your pussy against me. I’m going to smear my sheets with your essence so I can smell you even when you’re not here and still get pleasure from you.”
Holy shit.
“Think about this,” I say as we enter his room, “think about what you’re doing. I mean, what about Bobby?”
“I know exactly what I’m doing,” he says as he pushes me on the bed, “And I’m not doing Bobby.”
I almost laugh, but Reese heads for my blouse, unbuttoning it and distracting me.
I realize he means business as I watch it fly through the air.
He leaves my bra on to work on my skirt, which I thought he’d just flip up, but I guess he wants me completely naked.
He pulls it down and tosses it aside.
There is very little between us now, though he still has his own clothes on—but not for long.
He pulls off his T-shirt and I start to panic, knowing his cock will make an appearance soon.
I didn’t expect this! I may have wondered what it would be like to be with him once or twice, but I certainly never seriously thought of seducing him.
“Reese!” I say, begging him once more without finding the other words I need to stay, momentarily distracted at the sight of his chest and abs.
He looks strong, and his torso is unbelievably sexy, but this isn’t something we can both jump into lightly—my boyfriend’s returning tomorrow!
I think.
Reese’s firm upper body hovers an inch over mine as he works at the clasp of my bra. With his ear so close to me, I whisper, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”