Antonio places the tray on the small, glass-topped table beside us, gives me a thumbs-up and a wink that make my face grow hot with embarrassment, and then quietly closes the door on his way out.
Terrence reaches out for the corkscrew and his hand brushes against mine as I slide it toward him.
"Always looking out for me, aren't you?" he says softly, almost sadly as he finds the bottle on his own and pops the cork in one strong tug.
"I'm supposed to be doing that," I answer. "It... it's my job."
It's a job I don't want tonight, a job I shed last night long before my clothes fell to the floor beside it just so I could be with him.
"You first," he whispers as he hands me the bottle. "I'd serve you tonight if I could see what I was doing."
"So do it, then. Here's my glass; I'll let you know when to stop," I tell him, pushing the wine back to him. He beams at me as if I've just told him he's won a lifetime supply of puppies and then slowly pours me a drink. I let it reach almost to the rim before calling him off.
"It's funny the little things you take for granted until you suddenly can't see. Take pouring wine, for example... take a look at what I have to do." He presses the tip of his index finger about an inch below the rim on the inside of his glass as he pours the wine. The level slowly rises until it touches his finger, and then he pulls the bottle away.
"It's the little things that took the most adjustment for," he continues. "Not things like driving, cooking... I can hire people to do that stuff. The hardest things for me have been things like dropping the cap on the toothpaste or having someone move my shoes."
He smiles and winks at me as he holds up his glass.
"To the most amazing weekend ever," he offers a toast. I can drink to that, and the clink of our glasses resonates throughout the room. The wine tastes sweet at first, and then a deep, almost spicy flavor takes over on my lips and tongue.
"Mind if I tell you a little secret?" he whispers between sips of wine.
"Sure. I'm always looking for good blackmail material."
He laughs and kisses me softly on the cheek, and my mind grows warm and hazy the moment his lips touch my skin.
"I lost my vision over the course of three years, roughly, and I was completely blind by twenty-one," he says, taking another drink. "It's been hard, but I've tried to adjust to it as best I can. No matter how much I try, though—no matter what precautions I take—there's one thing that scares me more than anything else."
I slip my arm around his waist and cuddle up close to him. My eyes latch onto the tinge of red left on his lips by the wine, and I suddenly have the urge to taste him. He falters in his story as if scared to admit he's not super macho all the time, and I pick up where he left off.
"It's being lost, isn't it?" I ask, and he slowly nods. I knew it from how he reacted to me letting go of him to greet my former coworker at Verta, from how he always tries to keep one hand anchored to something, anything, when I'm not at his side.
"I'm terrified of losing track of where I am and not knowing how to find myself again. It's happened to me a few times before I learneefop>
"Jesus..."
"That's why I asked you not to let go of me at the Verta meeting," he whispers. "I... I didn't know where I was. It's like the world was spinning even though I was standing still. I knew we were standing in front of the elevator in my mind, but the rest of me somehow didn't believe it."
I don't know what to say. What can I possibly say to someone exposing his greatest fear to me? I can't tell him it'll be okay or that it's all just in his mind. Of course it's in his mind—all the worst fears and doubts hide in there, lurking in the darkness and waiting to pounce on you when you least expect them. Instead, I lean my head on his shoulder and give him a weak, one-armed hug as we sit together in his comfortable reading chair. As he refills his glass, I take the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the topic.
"Fantastic wine, by the way. Was it your pick or Antonio's?" I ask. My glass is empty far sooner than it should be, and I pour myself a second, more reasonably sized drink.
"His. I used to buy wine based on how much I liked the labels, but... yeah, not much of that happening these days," he answers, chuckling at himself. His self-deprecation actually sounds carefree and lighthearted tonight.
"Well, so much for getting to praise your taste in booze," I tease, pointlessly winking at him as I top off his glass.
"You didn't seem to have much trouble singing my praises last night," he whispers in my ear. His breath is hot against my skin and sends a ticklish shiver down my spine.
"Yes, but that was last night," I answer, dropping my voice to a quiet purr as I place a chocolate-covered strawberry into his hand and close his fingers gently around it. "It's a new day, and that demands new and amazing things."
He smiles at me knowingly and then takes a bite of his strawberry. I follow suit and close my eyes as the delicious mixture of sweet juice and bitter dark chocolate fills my mouth. I hope they've granted sainthood to whoever first decided to dip fruit into chocolate.
"So you need me to do something awesome so that you have an excuse to praise me? And here I thought I understood you," he says bemusedly, and he runs a hand through his hair and flips it back as he pushes it away from his eyes. I can't help but stare at the motion, almost mesmerized by his good looks.
"What can I say? I'm a complicated woman," I purr demurely. He has no idea.
The conversation oscillates between coy date-night banter and talk of business. One second we’re talking about his research, then our favorite movies, next about my first paycheck being deposited on Monday, and our favorite foods—cheese pizza for both of us, oddly enough. It's as if the conversation can't decide what to make of our relationship either.
Terrence puts his arm around my waist and pulls me in so close that I'm all but sitting in his lap. I'm feeling totally relaxed now as half a bottle of wine warms my veins, and my eyes keep latching onto the bed as the silky sheets beckon to me like a thousand thread-count Siren. I blame the wine for that terrible simile.
"Are you still waiting for me to do something amazing?" Terrence whispers into my ear.
"Oh? Do you have something in mind?" I whisper right back, letting him feel my breath against his skin and then kissing him on the cheek.
Terrence winks and smiles mischievously at me as he stands up, running one hand sexily through his hair—be still, my heart—and then taking my hand, he pulls me up onto my feet at his side.
"So what's your big secret?" I whisper as anticipation mounts inside me. He raises a finger to his lips, loops his arm around mine and then guides me slowly toward the bed.
My pulse quickens in excitement, beating faster and faster with each step closer to those exquisitely comfortable sheets, and then it skips a beat entirely as Terrence whispers into my ear.
"I'd like you to try something a little different tonight," he whispers, and I shiver in delight as his lips brush against my ear.
He sits cross-legged in the middle of the bed, and I climb up and sit beside him, first smoothing out my short black skirt as if trying to retain some modicum of decency and then giving up and sitting on my knees instead. Even though I know he can't see me flashing him, I still feel self-conscious about it for some reason.
"I hope you're not bored of me already," I tease.
Now that I'm sitting on the bed with him, sitting so near to him that I can feel his breath on my skin as he leans in close, my imagination fills with all sorts of delightful ideas and desires. I can think of plenty of things that would be 'different' and I'm intrigued to find out what he's thought up.
He shakes his head and smiles knowingly, and then my breath catches in my throat as he pulls a black satin eye-mask with delicate lace trim from the back pocket of his jeans.
"Put this on, please," he tells me, and he gently presses the blindfold into my hand and closes my fingers around it.
"And then what?" I ask, tugging nervously on
mask's elastic band and running my fingers along its soft lace. I don't know what I'd been expecting him to say, but I'm surprised at a blindfold being involved.
"Let me take charge tonight, Irene. Just trust me," Terrence whispers mischievously. He leans in to kiss me but misses my lips and gets me on the cheek instead.
"No whips, chains, handcuffs, anything like that, right?" I ask worriedly as an inkling of panic rises inside me.
"Of course not," he answers, raising an eyebrow incredulously. "Why does everyone think that's sexy these days?"
"I blame Fifty Shades," I joke, and he laughs and shakes his head.
"None of that, I promise. Just trust me, Irene."
I let out a sigh of relief as the tension in my shoulders relaxes. Thank heaven he's not into that sort of thing. I'm sure it's fun for some people, but I'm not touching that stuff with a ten-foot pole.
"Trust you, huh?" I repeat, and he nods silently.
Even though I trust him—I trust him more than anyone since... well, since Isaac, really—I'm still a little nervous. I don't know where he's going with this once the mask goes on, but how far could he go if he's promising not to tie me up?
He could be about to take pictures of me while I'm not expecting it. What wonderful blackmail material that'd be.
No way... he wouldn't do something like that. My doubts have gone so far overboard that even I don't believe them now.
"You don't have to if you're not comfortable," he says, but" he that as he reaches out to reclaim the mask, I yank it away from him and stretch the elastic over the back of my head. The soft black fabric slides down over my eyes and my pulse pounds in my head as darkness engulfs me.
"It's on, Terrence," I say, my voice wavering with a strange blend of excitement or trepidation.
"Thank you," he whispers in my ear, and then he unexpectedly kisses me.
His lips caress mine, pressing in softly and gently as he runs one finger slowly down my cheek and then traces along my jaw line. An uncontrollable shiver travels all the way down my spine and finally dissipates at my knees at his touch.
Terrence's fingertips trail slowly down my neck, excite every nerve in my body on their way down to my shoulders, and then I take in a sharp breath as he gently cups my breasts in his hands through the soft fabric of my dress. God, it's as if his every touch is somehow more intense and sensual now that I can't see what he's doing.
A sigh of pleasure escapes my throat as he plays with me, softly kneading my breasts, letting his fingers flit against my now hardening nipples through the thin fabric, and then it's his turn to be surprised as he finally discovers the deep scoop neck of my dress.
"Tell me what you're wearing," Terrence growls as he runs one finger slowly upward along my low neckline. My body wakes up at the low, almost animal desire in his voice and the unbelievable feelings coursing through me at his touch. I don't know what this mask is doing but whatever it is, I like it.
"I bought it just this morning," I tell him, shivering again as he delicately touches me between my breasts and traces his fingertips along my exposed cleavage. "It's a simple, little black dress that fit perfectly to my hips and bust when I tried it on. It has a short skirt—not quite a miniskirt but close—and the low scoop neck you're playing with right now. I think it looks absolutely amazing."
"Yes... yes it does. God, you're so beautiful it hurts," he whispers, his voice almost overflowing with longing. His imaginary Irene is wearing a black dress now and he likes what he's seeing. "What else are you wearing?"
Before I can answer him, he pulls me in close, presses his lips to mine in a deep, powerful kiss, and pushes me down on the bed beneath him. I brace myself in the darkness, expecting to feel myself fall as he pushes me down, but he holds me close with one strong arm the entire way down.
His tongue explores mine as he kisses me, playing with it, teasing it just as intoxicatingly as his hands are teasing my body right now. His kiss steals my breath away and leaves me gasping for air as he plays with my breasts again and sets nerves on fire all up and down my body.
"Well? What else are you wearing?" he asks again as he finally frees me from his glorious kiss. That kiss was so captivating and incredible that I can't find any words to answer him for a moment, and I let out a soft, satisfied moan as I watch the stars float against the darkness of my blindfold.
My heart pounds in excitement as he presses in close to me. His broad, strong chest almost pushes me down into the bed as he trails his hands slowly up my arms and then laces his fingers through mine.
"You'll just have to find out, won't you?" I answer breathlessly, all but shaking with anticipation now.
"Oh, I'm going to just as soon as you show me where the zipper is on that dress," he purrs playfully.
"What, don't you wan do/div>t to hunt for it a little?" I purr right back. "There's so much of me left to explore."
I shiver as his lips suddenly brush against my ear, but the shiver quickly escalates into an excited tremble as he whispers to me, his voice a deep, animal growl of passion as he pins my hands tightly down against the bed.
"Irene, I'm going to lose control if you play coy for much longer, so unless you want me to just leave it on while I fuck you..."
God, after hearing the desire dripping from his voice, I almost want that! His words are like an injection of caffeine straight to my brain and my body burns with longing, completely awake and willing now, almost begging me to let him have me.
"No... let's save that for another time," I tell him, gasping and squirming as his hand drops between my legs and then trails delicately up my stockings as he lifts my skirt. "It'd be a waste of good lingerie if you didn't undress me first."
Terrence groans with desire and I can feel the longing radiating from him as it builds up into a near-uncontrollable inferno. His fingers unexpectedly find me beneath my skirt, and I let out a cry of delight as he explores me through the sheer black satin of my underwear.
"Seriously now," he whispers in my ear as his fingertips work magic between my legs. "Where's the zipper?"
"On the left, hiding beneath my arm," I answer, my words coming out as little more than a whimper as I arch my back at his touch.
Terrence gropes frantically up my side in search of my elusive zipper while his other hand traces slowly up and down against me through my underwear with firm, almost agonizingly wonderful pressure. I clutch at the sheets and squirm in delight as electricity arcs through my body.
When he finally finds the zipper and yanks it down, I swear my dress is up and over my head in less than a second. It flutters to the floor somewhere beyond the edge of the bed, and then he pushes me back down beneath him and kisses me again as he greedily explores my body.
"Now that you've finally gotten around to undressing me," I tease, "I'm wearing a sheer black bra—demi cup, if you know what that is—with lace embroidery over the cups, stockings and a matching pair of black underwear tied at the hips."
"Tied at the hips?" he repeats in hushed awe as if string-tie underwear the most amazing thing since sliced bread. He's so turned on now that I can feel it.
"There are little satin bows on each side just waiting for you to untie them," I whisper, my heart pounding in anticipation as I hear Terrence's breathing quicken. His imaginary Irene is so sexy and seductive now that she's completely irresistible to him.
I was nervous of having to live up to an idealistic image of myself the first time we made love, but not anymore. I felt like I was lying to him, somehow unintentionally deceiving him before by not living up to his imagination, but that wasn't true at all. His imaginary Irene, whatever it is he's seeing, is still the true me.
I am the beautiful woman Terrence is envisioning, not just an imposter. That idealistic image is really me. She's conjured from my stories and my voice, from my personality and mannerisms; she must be me because it's impossible for her to be anyone else.
Cassie was right about dating Terrence in a more amazing way than she possibl
y could have known. He's not just into me because he thinks I look good̵loo"1em"2;he's into me because he knows it, and now that I think about it, it's so unbelievably sexy that I could melt into his arms right here and now.
His lips find mine once more, and he drinks in my moan of ecstasy as he teases me through my underwear, exploring me, tracing me with just enough pressure to make my body burn with longing. When he finally releases me from my throes, he pulls away entirely and leaves me breathless on the bed, gasping for air and waiting in the darkness for whatever he's planning next.
Chasing Wishes Page 20