Seeing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  “Alex, nice to see you too,” I reply, a touch of sarcasm at his blatant perusal of me. “Your home is beautiful.” There. In control. Situation handled. I can do this.

  “Mmm,” he responds, still looking, although thankfully this time at my face.

  “Sir, if you need me at all, please call,” Andrews says as he moves away from us.

  And then we’re alone, and he just continues to look at me, smirking with those eyes of his. I’m falling into them with every next breath, still panting.

  “You came?” he says softly and rather oddly. My face screws up, stopping my ridiculous panting.

  “You invited me. Why would I not come?” I reply, slightly confused.

  “I thought you might change your mind.”

  “Really? Why?” I ask. Where is this going? And who would ever change their mind about seeing him anyway?

  “No matter, you’re here now. Please, come in.”

  He smiles, finally moving aside and ushering me into the lounge.

  I glance around as I enter the room. The same burgundy is on the walls, but this room does have a more modern feel. The entirety of the vast back wall is made of glass doors, which obviously open onto the garden. The numerous couches and chairs are either dark brown leather or have a William Morris pattern, and a certain style radiates throughout the room that has a sense of charm and manliness, reminding me of an Old English Gentleman’s Club. At the centre of the room sits a coffee table with an intricately carved chessboard ingrained in it. The game is apparently still being played because the cut glass and very modern pieces are in match positions. I stare down at it with a smile and wonder who it is that he’s playing with. The room somehow manages to twist and turn through the ages with modern art hung in strict rows and several modern glass sculptures, but the traditional feel is still embedded. It’s truly gorgeous and feels like someone’s home unlike his apartment.

  “Do you like it?” he asks.

  “Very much,” I reply, wandering around the room touching things. “I love the mix of old and new. You love your art, don’t you?” I say as I nod toward the row of modern paintings.

  “I buy primarily for investment but some of it is interesting.”

  “Oh, that seems a shame. Art should be cherished, loved even,” I reply, wondering why he would bother having it at all, then thinking about that small boy in the rain in his apartment. I wonder who it’s by and remind myself to Google it at some point. “Who are you playing with?” I ask, inclining my head toward the chessboard while still looking at the paintings.

  “A worthy adversary,” he replies from behind me. I turn to see him about two feet in front of me. Shit. He puts his large hands on my waist and pulls me closer to him.

  “Elizabeth, how would you like to play this evening?” Too close. Very close. Can’t breathe again, and what does that mean anyway?

  “What do you mean?” I reply, taking a step backwards and trying to create a little room between us. His brow instantly furrows as he tightens his grip, apparently refusing to let me go.

  “Well, we could pretend this is all very formal and then we could get to know each other slowly over a few glasses of wine while sitting at the dining table, or you could kick off those exquisite heels and relax on the sofa while we loosen up and enjoy each other’s company. I will do this properly if you want to, but I’d much rather just unwind with you and see where things go.”

  I pull back again and try to untangle myself from his very rigid body. He frowns a little at me but does at least let me go this time, so I look him over for a few seconds. He’s dressed in a very smart brown jacket, a blue shirt and smart jeans with brown brogues. He looks just like the model I had first imagined, stylish and tasteful, formal and yet relaxed somehow, but that very sexy devil is very definitely still dancing in his eyes as he watches me looking him over with a smirk on his stupidly erotic mouth.

  “Oh, right, well I guess whatever you prefer. It is your house and I’d quite like to see the real Alex White.”

  “Good,” he says as he shrugs off his jacket. “If there’s one thing I can’t abide, its pretentiousness.” Smiling and moving toward me again, he pushes me backwards towards a sofa playfully. My face must be a picture of expectancy as those visions develop again.

  “Sit,” he says. Actually, it seems more of a demand from his tone, so I do. Well, as gracefully as I can manage, given my heels and the very low sofa.

  He crouches down in front of me and lowers his hands to my knees. I stare at him uncertainly as he slowly runs his warm hands down my legs until they reach my shoes. I feel myself shuddering with anxiety as my heart begins its hammering again. What is he doing?

  “Nervous?” he says softly. God yes. But as I gaze into those eyes, something seems to hook onto me, something that tells me to just trust him and let him guide the way. I have no idea if it’s his air of superiority or simply the fact that I can’t take my eyes off the wide shoulders hovering so closely in front of me. Or maybe it’s his hands that seem to make my legs look oddly protected somehow.

  I blink across at him, feeling like I’ve been drugged and trying to process how the contact is actually making me feel.

  “Yes,” I reply, with a slightly edgy giggle. It’s ridiculous, I know, but the man is completely overwhelming and I seriously can’t think.

  Slowly, he removes my shoes and gently traces his fingers over my ankles. I’m so captivated by the way he moves his hands over me that I stop thinking completely for a minute and just feel every stroke of his faintly calloused hands as I watch him watching his fingers journey across my skin. Then I abruptly realise that it really feels far too good having his hands on me for the first time, so of course I absolutely can’t stop my mind from wandering to thoughts of what other things those hands are capable of. I stiffen beneath his touch a little at the various images I’m confronted with. He chuckles at me and withdraws with an amused expression. He can obviously read minds as well.

  “You shouldn’t be. You look breath-taking and I’m humbled to have you in my home,” he replies, slowly unfurling his frame to stand and walks across the room. My shoes go with him, his fingers carrying them until he places them on the side table next to a very expensive looking glass horse sculpture. “While these are beautiful, I want you to feel perfectly at home and I don’t know about you, but I do that better barefoot.” He reaches down and removes his shoes and socks. “Feel free to remove your dress as well if you want, or I could do it for you.” He winks and throws me a true panty dropping, Alex White smile. It’s beautiful and I immediately laugh. It turns almost hysterical. This whole thing is beyond strange - the car, the bracelet, him, me, this house. I’m losing it, and tears are welling up in my eyes because I’m laughing so hard.

  He looks at me quizzically with a very cute crease in his forehead.

  “Okay, I know it was a good line but I don’t think it was that good,” he states, frowning at my inane laughter, which I have now thankfully dimmed to a slightly smaller giggle.

  “Oh, Alex, it most definitely was a good line, and you have managed to make me feel completely at ease in your home. Thank you.” I laugh again. He shakes his head but his grin returns with show stopping effect.

  “Fantastic. Now, what would you like to drink? And would you prefer to eat in here or in the kitchen?”

  “Anything white?” I ask, a sense of irony offered, as my inner confidence somehow emerges and reminds me to just be myself and see where it goes.

  “Absolutely,” he says, rolling up his sleeves and smirking at me.

  “And definitely the kitchen. Mind you, I haven’t seen it yet. Is it as awful as the rest of the house?” I giggle and wave my hand around the lounge.

  He barks out a laugh. “Oh, a sense of humour I see. Superb. I love a woman with a good sense of humour. Lovely to finally meet you, Elizabeth,” he says, the loveliest of smiles creeping over his face. It’s almost shy somehow and my knees buckle at the gorgeousness of it.


  “Why thank you, Alex. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” I smile in reply as I watch his blue eyes warm and dance humorously back at me.

  “Come on.” He motions, stretching a hand toward me. “I hope you like fish?” I take it gingerly as we walk towards what I assume is the kitchen.

  ~

  By the time we have finished eating, we’ve probably discussed hundreds of topics and I’m completely myself. Unbelievably, he has continued to act like a charming, excited schoolboy and has continuously complimented me and seems to be doing everything in his power to make me feel comfortable. It’s working. The food was delicious and the wine, which has flowed extremely freely, has been wonderful. Who knew a man like this could cook? And fantastically, at that. He’s told me of his love of cooking and that although he rarely gets the chance, he always gives Mrs Jenkins, his housekeeper, the time off if he’s home so he can have the kitchen to himself. We’ve talked about books and art and business. He’s told me of his love of the outdoors, sailing and snowboarding seem to rank quite highly on his list of the best things to do. He’s asked varying questions about my past but never pushed me far enough to make me uncomfortable. He’s the perfect gentleman, funny, informative and genuine. I feel very happy and very relaxed and also really quite drunk. It’s slightly worrying but not so much that I’m not picking up my next glass of wine.

  “The bracelet does look wonderful on you, by the way. I’m glad you kept it,” he says as he reaches out and runs his finger over the bracelet, briefly touching my skin again and sending more shivers racing along my spine.

  “I didn’t keep it. I gave it back but it magically appeared in my bag. You must have fairies in your apartment,” I reply with a sardonic smile.

  “Yes, they are pesky little critters, aren’t they?” He winks. “Come on, let’s go through to the lounge,” he says as he lifts his very appealing frame from the table, takes my hand and leads me from the table through the door and into the hall again. While walking, I notice a room on the left with a soft blue glow coming from the half opened door, and a huge wall of books dominating the side of it.

  “Wow, that’s quite a collection you’ve got in there,” I exclaim as I stare in awe at the masses of leather bound books. He stops and turns around.

  “Oh, that’s the study. Go on in and have a look if you like,” he says, gesturing toward the door and placing his hand on my back gently. More shivers race across my skin as I glance back at him and then walk in.

  My jaw drops at the sight of it. The room is huge and filled with books. It looks like an old fashioned library. Perfectly crafted bookshelves line the walls with library steps leaning up against them. The room smells of paper and leather, and the large desk at the end screams of businessman, several stacks of papers arranged on it. Rather quaintly, a pair of glasses also seems to have been abandoned there.

  “Wasted really,” he says from behind me.

  “Really? Why?” I ask.

  “There’s never enough time for reading or relaxing. Feel free to spend time in here whenever you’re about. It would be nice to see someone use it to its full potential.”

  “You imply that I’ll return, Mr. White,” I reply, giggling and looking back towards him across my shoulder.

  “Well, you will, Miss Scott, because I will tell you that I want you here and you will do as you’re told,” he says rather severely as he moves around in front of me. He brushes his fingers into a lock of my hair and drags it around to the front of my chest, eyes narrowing a little as he lets go of it and drops his hand.

  And there it is. In a split second, the atmosphere is fully charged and demanding. He’s made it so, and electricity has ignited around the room. His fixed gaze is guarded, emotionless and searing. He appears to have snapped into killer mode and there isn’t a thing I want to do about it, even if I could. The Alex from the lift has returned and suddenly, and rather confusingly, I’m happy to have him back. My breathing starts its unbelievable panting and my fingers begin to tingle with something unknown. He takes a step toward me so I slowly back away, bumping into the stacked shelves. I have no idea why I’m retreating, but I’m hoping it’s self-preservation or something. He stops and seems eerily still as if he’s frozen time around him somehow, or around us.

  “You will not run from me, Elizabeth. Stand still,” he demands - yes, demands. My eyes widen at him but I do, shaking in fear or excitement. I’m really not sure what I feel but I definitely feel hot and flustered again. “Do you want me, Elizabeth?” he asks quietly but directly, looking me over. My face falls to the floor, probably in embarrassment. “Look at me when I ask you a question. Don’t ever drop your gaze unless I tell you to,” he orders. It’s a snapped tone I haven’t heard before, disconcerting in its growl, but gut-wrenchingly erotic as well.

  “Alex I... Umm, I...” I’m stuttering like a fool as I look up to meet his eyes, because shit, where the hell has this come from? And do I want him now?

  “No, Elizabeth. Just a one word answer - yes or no. This is the last chance you’ll have to leave,” he states calmly as he continues his perusal of me.

  “Yes.” I could have lied but frankly, what’s the point? The man is gorgeous, and regardless of my self-disgust, my inner slut is still panting for him.

  “Yes, you want me or yes, you want to leave? Say it, Elizabeth, and louder this time.”

  He fixes his now predatory eyes on mine again, the corner of his mouth turning upwards just slightly. Oh god, such ridiculously sexy eyes. I suck in a breath and pause for a moment, looking straight into them as they draw me into him. They’re so cool and calculating, merciless in their stare, and my skin is suddenly on fire, my breathing ragged with nerves. He knows he has me on edge and he’s enjoying it as he looks back at me, completely in control of this moment. Unfortunately, I have no doubt what my answer is.

  “Yes, I want you,” I answer breathlessly.

  He stares for a few seconds as if breathing me in, his face softening just slightly, that crease appearing again and then there’s a sudden shift in his demeanour. His stance becomes harder and taller, his angular jaw clenching and a frown forming. Something flashes in his eyes and then he’s in front of me, pushing me back against the shelves forcefully. He slowly brings his hand to the front of my neck and pulls my face to meet his. Every part of his heavy body is pressing against me, strong, lean and powerful. It’s the most erotic moment of my life. I stop breathing and wait, pinned under him for whatever it is that’s coming next.

  “Are you ready for me, Elizabeth? Can you do this with someone like me?” he growls in my ear. Can I? Christ, I don’t know. I’m not backing away from this though.

  “Yes,” I whisper, hoping to hell that I actually am.

  He surges his mouth against mine and grasps my neck so tightly I can hardly breathe, but I melt into him and return the kiss passionately, revelling in his lips and his touch. My dress hitches up roughly, his knee forced between my legs and pushing against my groin to lift me onto his thigh. Our mouths and tongues explore with a vicious desperation I’ve never experienced before, and as I remove my mouth to take a breath, he immediately drops his head to my neck, sucking and licking his way across my collarbone. Moving his hand from my waist to my wrist, he pulls it sharply above my head and holds it tight against the books.

  “Oh, God,” I sigh in complete disarray. The force on my wrist is almost bruising in its grip but feels beyond good for some strange reason.

  “Fuck, you are the most delicious woman.” He groans as his hand drifts to my thigh and backside, squeezing tightly and pushing himself against me harder, grinding into me, still biting. “Christ, I knew you’d be good. I won’t do this now, not yet. You’re incredible and I want to, but...”

  “Alex please.” I’m begging, remarkably, for what I don’t know, but I’m definitely feeling the build of an orgasm as he continues to grind into me. Overwhelming heat rises up through my body as he moves his mouth down to my breasts and light
ly bites against my nipples through the material of my dress. It’s irresistible, making me squirm and begin tingling at the sensation. “Oh, God.” I breathe out again as I feel the clenching effect between my legs. They’re the only words I have as he continues to rub his thigh against me, my crotch blatantly rubbing back against him.

  “Are you going to come for me, Elizabeth?” he whispers in my ear. “I can feel that tremble I was after.”

  “Alex, please,” I beg again. I’ve never been more ready. I can’t even begin to fathom my begging so I give in to my body and let go.

  “Would you prefer my hand down there?” He growls, increasing the force of his thigh against me. “Do you want to feel me inside you?” I fall onto it, more pressure driving me onwards as I continue my rhythm and climb towards my bliss.

  “God, yes... Please… I’m so close,” I beg again, feeling his hard length pushing against my hipbone as I tip my head backwards and he increases his hold on my neck. It’s so tight, and then tighter, squeezing his fingers around my throat and making me feel slightly delirious somehow. Yes.

  “Make yourself come on me. Use me. I want to hear you moaning for me.” He moves his mouth back to my breasts and bites my nipples hard with his teeth and mouth, pulling and then releasing in the same rhythm as my rubbing against him. It’s too much. I close my eyes and let my orgasm take hold of me. “Christ I want to fuck you,” he says into my neck, biting my jaw and forcing more of his body weight into me.

  “Yes. Oh, God yes. More. Yes.” Complete abandon begins. Stars and white lights shining brightly behind my eyelids like I’ve never seen before, as I tumble into the most incredible feeling of my life. He growls at me and holds my weight aloft, still rubbing his thigh against me to keep the sensation prolonged.

  I cling onto him as he quietly nibbles at my neck, enjoying the vibrations running across me, then realise that I’m still digging my nails into his back. Slowly releasing my hand and nails, I start to ease back and let go. He grabs me back and holds on fiercely.