Bonds of Attraction (Full Length Erotic Romance Novel)

by Alana Davis

  Leon was already outside by the time I reached the lobby. I watched him hail a cab and I raced after him. A cab pulled up beside him and he got inside just as I ran out of the building. Heavy drops of rain fell from the sky as I hurriedly hailed another cab to follow him.

  I looked up to the sky and clouds had covered the sun that was a fixture in the normally clear sky. When a cab pulled over to me, I ducked in quickly and turned to the cab driver, saying something that I thought I would never have to say.

  “Follow that taxi!” I said and handed the guy a twenty dollar bill. He clicked on the meter and pulled out after the cab before us. He assured me in his thick accent that he would only follow; he wouldn’t speed or break the law. I told him that was fine and sat back in the middle of the seat, still staring out after the cab in front of us.

  The ride was long. I had time to calm down from my previous anger and assess how I felt. I wondered where we were even going and if Leon had seen me follow him, but it seemed unimportant now. I just wanted to meet him face to face and tell him everything that I needed to before this all ended.

  It would be an anticlimactic end to this case. Leon Christensen would not have a match and an argument would be the end of our business relationship. Was I really ready to end it over him trying to offend me? In all honesty, it had been more than offensive. It was downright sexual harassment. Would I let Leon Christensen just walk away from this, totally off the hook and feeling like he was victorious?

  No, I decided immediately. I was going to confront Leon Christensen and tell him that he wasn’t getting out of this that easily. I wasn’t going to tolerate any more of his sexual harassment, that was for sure, but he was going to sit through it until I ended it.

  The cab with Leon in it turned left and began to slow. A large steel fence with pointy edges and intricate designs on it lined a huge gate that the cab slowly rolled under. It was raining much harder now and I told the cab driver to pull in after it. When we drove under the large gates, I realized where Leon Christensen had led me. We were at a cemetery.

  I looked around, wondering exactly what was going on. I combed through my memory to see if there were any clues there. As far as I knew, his parents weren’t dead, nor did he ever mention any dead relatives. Yet here we were at a cemetery.

  Leon got out of his cab, seemingly oblivious to the cab that I was in. Rain fell down on him in droves, soaking him throughout. His hair fell against his face as he walked right by my cab, not paying any mind to it. He turned and walked down a pathway. I watched in silence, the cab driver saying something that I didn’t register.

  I turned to the cab driver and paid him the meter fare plus another ten dollar tip. He was saying something again but I was already out of the cab, following Leon. Rain soaked my hair and ran down my face in tiny rivers. I turned back to the cab and leaned into driver’s window. I held out another twenty to him.

  “Wait for me, ok?”

  The cab driver took the twenty and looked around suspiciously. He eyed Leon walking down the path and then turned to watch the other cab drive off.

  “Ten minutes,” he said sternly. “No more. Ten minutes.”

  I nodded in agreement and turned to look for Leon. He was still walking down the path, head held high against the torrential rain. I pushed my hair back and followed Leon down the pathway.

  He stopped before a tombstone. The rain hammered down on us harder with each passing second, yet Leon made no move to shield himself or even cower slightly at the onslaught of water. He stared down at the tombstone before him and I walked up to him slowly.

  Leon sat down on the wet grass. He lowered his head slightly as he extended his hand out to the tombstone. There was something sweet about the way he was sitting before the tombstone, not caring how wet he was getting or how vulnerable he looked. I felt my anger melt away as pangs of pity struck at my heart. I knelt down beside him.

  Neither of us spoke. I began to read the tombstone and paused when I saw the date. Today was the anniversary of this person’s death. I looked up and read the name on the tombstone. Kevin Bowers. He was sixteen years old when he died.

  Leon looked up at me, his eyes bright red. Rain flowed down his face; he was crying. His face remained stoic, yet I knew that his tears were coming down mixed with the rain. I suppressed the urge to wipe them away his face, knowing that there was no way to wipe away all of this rain.

  We remained silent. Leon studied the tombstone. I watched him, wondering just what he was thinking. Something in our conversation had provoked him to come here. I had struck out at Leon, hoping to break through his tough exterior with my words, but I had not expected to be this successful. The victory felt empty and hollow. This person, Kevin Bowers, was someone important to Leon. It was the anniversary of his death and Leon sat before his tombstone, crying in the rain.

  Lightning spread across the sky. I looked up and waited for the sound of thunder. It came a few seconds later, telling us the center of the storm was not too far away. Leon didn’t notice any of it, his eyes still focused on Kevin Bowers’s tombstone.

  I gently placed my hand on Leon’s shoulder and he looked up at me again. His hair clung to his face in matted clumps, rain pouring from the end of each one. I got my feet and extended my hand to Leon. He took it and I pulled him up. When he stood before me, it looked as if he had jumped in a pool. Everything on him was soaked and dripping. Just what had I said that had this effect on Leon? Despite my quickly dissipating anger, seeing him so profoundly hurt sent jolts of regret through my heart.

  I turned and walked back up the path. The cab was waiting patiently for us, and I was thankful that he hadn’t driven off. I opened the door for Leon and he dejectedly got in the cab. I followed and closed the door behind me.

  The cab driver turned around and looked disapprovingly at our dripping masses in his backseat. I gave him a soaking wet twenty and told him my address. Leon looked like the epitome of a broken heart; I needed to get him somewhere safe and clean him up. It felt like my responsibility. After all, wasn’t it my fault that he ended up in this state? Even if I asked him right now where he lived, I didn’t think he would be able to give a coherent answer.

  Something cried out in me that it was a terrible idea to bring him home but I stifled the thought. It wasn’t breaking any rules to bring a client to my home. Yes, it was unorthodox and I hadn’t had to resort to this kind of thing before, but Leon Christensen wasn’t a one night stand. I didn’t bring one night stands home, but I could bring a client home.

  The rationalization stuck. I’d get him to my place, clean him up, maybe even feed him, and get him on his way. I could build some trust between us. Maybe I could even end our business relationship on a more positive note.

  Leon laid back against the seat, looking off into the distance. I felt a chill as my clothes stuck to my skin and I leaned back. My eyes closed and I let the bouncing of the cab overtake any thoughts I had.

  Chapter 9

  The cab pulled up to my place. Water dripped from the end of Leon’s chin in tiny droplets. He looked straight ahead, maintaining his silence. I leaned over him and handed the driver the fare plus an additional ten dollar bill. I looked over to Leon and motioned for him to follow me.

  The rain had let up slightly, but it still had not stopped completely. The sky was pitch black and the reflections of the street lamps twinkled off of every surface. We ran up the path to escape the unpleasant weather and I fumbled with my keys for a minute, feeling awkward as I assumed Leon was watching me. When I opened the door and stumbled in, Leon followed casually.

  He took off his shoes and they fell to the ground with a wet smack. Every step he took left a watermark in the shape of his foot. When he noticed this, he took off his socks and stuffed them in his soaked shoes. Barefoot, he stood in my living room, silent and stoic.

  I kicked off my shoes carelessly and hurried into the bathroom. I grabbed an armful of towels and returned to the living room, Leon still standing placi
dly. A forlorn look adorned his face, as though the tombstone stood right before his eyes.

  I handed him a towel and he nodded politely, but still said nothing. He held the towel at his side, making no move to even attempt to dry himself out. My heart cried out at his display of sadness, as though he was a broken toy and couldn’t even begin to be played with again. I took a towel and grabbed his head with it, drying his hair off roughly like a mother would a son who refused to do it himself.

  “You’re gonna have to deal with it,” I said soothingly, breaking the silence. “You can’t stay wet like this.” I kept my voice as soft as possible, almost melodious in its tone.

  Leon said nothing. He made no move to get out of his clothes or to dry himself off. I studied him. Leon Christensen just looked lost.

  I unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. The fabric dripped on my hardwood floor, gathering into a little pool of rainwater. Soon, Leon’s dress shirt was unbuttoned. He lifted his arms and I gently took it off. His undershirt was painted against his skin, clear from being soaked with rainwater. I could see through to the muscles beneath the shirt.

  I grabbed the bottom of the shirt and began to peel it off of him. The back of my hands rubbed against his stomach. I slowly lifted the shirt, silently reveling in the feel of his toned stomach muscles against the back of my fingers. I badly wanted to flip my hands around and grab him, feel his skin with my hands and rub my fingers through the caverns of his muscles.

  With the shirt off, I placed a towel around his shoulders. It was slightly chilly in my apartment, and with us soaked, it was even colder. The towel would warm him and protect him from getting sick.

  Leon Christensen shirtless lived up to every expectation. The skin pulled tight against rigid muscle; I could imagine his strength was great. I had to warm him up, get him out of his wet clothes and into something more suitable, but more than that I wanted to just look at this beautiful creature before me. Even with his hair matted down, his face wracked with sorrow, and his shoulders slumped in defeat, he was breathtaking.

  My eyes lowered to his pants. The grey slacks were black from the rainwater’s onslaught. I paused to consider how to continue. If I took off Leon’s pants, he might consider this to be a direct attempt at coming on to him. I mean, how could he not? Wet or not, a woman taking off a man’s pants in her living room was hard to interpret as anything else but sexual.

  Yet my worries dissipated when I really looked at Leon. He was so sullen that it was hard to imagine him taking anything as a pass. If only he would take some initiative, then I wouldn’t have to undress him. But it was already clear that something in the cemetery had affected him deeply. This was a man who was dealing with something serious. Kevin Bowers’s death meant something to Leon Christensen. Something significant.

  I took off Leon’s belt. It was a fine leather belt that was probably ruined from the rain. My fingers worked through the loops, knowing that they were so close to his crotch. If I let my hand fall just a few inches, I could wrap them around him and know the answer to the question he had asked me in his office.

  “Would you like to see just how big my dick is?” Leon had asked.

  Now, unbuttoning Leon Christensen’s pants, I found myself not caring about any of that. Yes, this man before me was an unbelievable statue of physical perfection, worthy of being cast in stone for the rest of history, but more than anything now, I just wanted to hug him. Tell him that everything was going to be ok and console him. The wet clothes were not an object to be overcome to get him naked, they were an obstacle to be removed for his well-being.

  I looked up at Leon and unzipped his pants. My fingers were unbearably close to his cock, a thin layer of his underwear separating our embrace. I lifted my hands and found the sides of his pants, all the while looking past Leon’s shoulders, not making eye contact or avoiding it. Leon’s face was stoic, without clue as how he felt about what was happening.

  I pulled down and the pants dropped into a soggy pile by his feet. I pushed against Leon’s exposed chest with one extended finger and he stepped back. I knelt down and picked up the clothes, my heart racing as my face grew closer to his crotch.

  I fought every instinct to look. If I saw that he had an erection, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Would I just let myself embrace the arousal and let him take me? Or would I be offended by a seemingly natural response to a woman undressing a man? My mind was racing in every direction, unwilling to let me decide how I would proceed. So rather than add to my confusion, I refused to look.

  I scooped up the clothes in my arms. Knelt down, I saw something move next to me. Looking down at Leon’s feet, I saw that his underwear was bunched around his feet. He had taken off his underwear.

  Leon Christensen stood completely naked only a few feet away. If I pivoted my head, I would be face to face with his exposed cock. I was already down on my knees before the man I had fantasized about numerous times. A man who was sexier than any other man I had ever even seen before, whether in person or in the media. My heart skipped a beat, jumped in my chest, and raced on.

  Leon stepped back from the underwear. I reached over and grabbed them quickly, adding them to the pile in my arms. I suddenly became aware of just how wet I was as I watched water drip from me onto the ground.

  I turned away from Leon as I rose, resolved not to look at his nakedness in total. I badly wanted to drink him with my eyes, let the sight of his body fill my eyes and burn itself into my memory, but I held to my will. I walked away with the pile of clothes and felt my skin cool as my wet clothes moved with my steps.

  “I don’t have any clothes that will fit you,” I said, my back to Leon. “Give me a minute.”

  I walked into the bathroom and put the clothes on a drying rack I had set up. These were high quality clothes, probably best dry cleaned, so I couldn’t simply throw them in the dryer. It would be a little while before Leon Christensen was clothed again.

  I sighed, thinking of how long Leon was going to be naked around me. What if my will breaks? It might be a question of when, I thought. No, I would get him wrapped in a blanket and sit him beside the fire, warming him. I would then bring the drying rack to the fire and he’d be out of here in an hour, maybe two. I’d brew coffee and he’d walk out of my place refreshed and thankful for my kindness.

  I went into the closet in the hallway and grabbed a large, soft blanket. When I returned to the living room, Leon stood in the same place. My eyes rolled over his body quickly before I averted my gaze. I felt a pang of panic strike at my heart; he was so beautiful. I wanted to stare at him, adore him.

  I threw the blanket over him quickly. I then pulled the towel that was still on his shoulders out from under the blanket and wrapped the blanket tightly around him. I breathed a sigh of relief that I immediately regretted as I didn’t want Leon to know just how relieved I was for him to be covered.

  I walked over to the fireplace. I luckily had a good amount of logs, easily enough to maintain a roaring fire all night. I stacked the logs and looked around for the matches. Next to the logs, there was a starter log and some matches. Admittedly, there was even a thing of lighter fluid for when I was less than adequate at building the fire, but tonight I hoped I wouldn’t have to resort to that in front of Leon.

  I motioned him over to me, nodding my head towards the fireplace.

  “Here, come sit before the fireplace. It’ll be a few minutes before it starts really heating up, but it’s best to get in front of it now. I’ll bring out your clothes to and have them hang before the fireplace so they can dry off quickly. You’ll be dry in no time.”

  Leon walked over slowly, lowering his head as he did. When he sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, the blanket wrapped around him looked like robes of a praying monk. I smiled slightly and Leon nodded at me, his first sign of communication since the cemetery.

  I shivered. My wet clothes had only grown colder as I began to build the fire and I realized now how I had put my own needs second to Leon�
�s. My fingers were cold and numb, defying me as I tried to work with the logs. When I raised a match, it shook in the open air. The first match I struck went out, and when I went to strike another, Leon spoke.

  “Go on,” he said quietly. It was so low that I struggled to hear what he said. “Go put on some dry clothes. I’ll be fine for a few minutes.”

  His head rested against his arms as he stared into the dead fireplace. I nodded in agreement, but Leon didn’t see.

  I grabbed the towel that I had taken off of Leon and dried my hair. I rubbed my hands feverishly and warmth returned to them. My suit jacket was still soaked, and I took it off and tossed it on the ground by our shoes.

  My shirt stuck to my skin, translucent from the rain. If Leon looked up now, he would see through to my chest. My hard nipples poked against my now see-through bra. The curvature of my hips and the shape of my breasts stood out against shadows cast by the overhead lights.

  As I wrapped the towel around my upper body, hiding my near-nakedness, I felt a hint of sadness that Leon hadn’t looked up to me. I had wanted him to see me so naked, so exposed. Walking back over to the fireplace, I knew that it was better that he had not seen me naked. If he had seen me naked in such a fragile state, we’d be in each other’s arms in no time.