Take Me I'm Yours (Coffee House Chronicles)

by Michelle Miles

  “I had a good time today,” Marion said.

  “So did I.”

  They paused on her porch and Marion turned to him.

  “I hope we can do it again soon,” he said.

  Knowing his gallery event was Friday, she tested the waters. “How about dinner Friday?”

  Indecision flashed across his face. “I can’t. I have other plans.”

  She waited. But he didn’t elaborate. Crestfallen he didn’t want to tell her the truth—or invite her along—she nodded. “Of course.” Even to her own ears, she sounded put off and turned toward the door.

  “I have this work thing. But I’m free on Saturday,” he suggested.

  A work thing translated to an art thing. She had every intention of waking up with him Saturday morning too, after a rousing evening of art and hot sex.

  The sudden thought made her blink. How was it she had planned to seduce him in two-point-three seconds? Maybe she’d had more wine than she thought.

  “Okay.”

  Oh, she would see him on Friday, all right. All night. And he better be naked.

  She could imagine it now. She’d see him at the gallery, he’d be surprised, though not displeased. They’d talk, have a drink. He’d ask to come to her place. One thing would lead to another…

  As she was distracted with those thoughts, he leaned in. One hand swept her hair back from her face and rested on her neck. This time, intoxicated impatience swelled and she pulled him to her, kissing him with all the fervor she possessed.

  She didn’t know what came over her. But all she could think about was having Graeme on top of her. Marion fell back against the door, pulling him with her and kissing him hard and fast. His arms went around her waist, held her close. And then she wrapped her leg around his waist.

  Marion wasn’t that kind of girl. She didn’t believe in sex in public places. She didn’t even believe in public displays of affection—but that hand-holding thing sure was nice. But she couldn’t stop her hips from rocking against his.

  And she was certain she felt his rock hard cock. He ground against her, the friction of denim against denim nearly driving her wild with need and desire. Her hands tangled in his hair while their mouths did a oral tango, each wanting more of the other. He cupped her ass, pushing her harder toward him and grinding against her even more. She moaned with delight.

  He wanted her. She was sure of that. There was nothing about those actions between either of them that shouted friendship. It was all raw sexual need, pure and simple.

  She wanted more. And Graeme did too, as he tugged at the button on her jeans. It popped open obediently, which was quickly followed by the unzipping. Marion leaned back hard into her front door, her chest heaving like some damsel waiting to be deflowered. His hand slipped between her skin and the fine lace of her panties, his fingers slipping lower until he found her slick and hot.

  With her leg still around his waist, she opened her hips to give him more access as his fingers swirled around her swollen clit. She bit her lip to keep from crying out with her pleasure as he increased the pressure, rubbing back and forth. His mouth was dangerously close to hers, his breath ragged. She tilted her head back, her mouth open in invitation.

  Graeme kissed her, his wet tongue meshing with hers while his hand did wonderful things to her she could have only imagined until now. She sucked on his bottom lip, nipping at it to signal she didn’t want him to stop. She let herself go, then, allowing pleasure to wash over her and she moaned into his mouth. Her orgasm shuddered through her, shaking her to the core.

  Everything around them stilled and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked and a horn honked and she realized then they were standing on her front porch.

  Graeme removed his hand and released her, his chest rising and falling as he breathed hard. He pressed his forehead into hers but all she could look at was that little open space at the top of his shirt. She could see the fast throb of his pulse and resisted the urge to reach out and run her fingers over it.

  “We shouldn’t have…” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

  Marion wasn’t sure if he meant they shouldn’t have because they were on her front porch, or…they shouldn’t have because of their long history together. Or maybe he meant they shouldn’t go any further than they already had.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I don’t know what came over me.” She wiggled out of his arms and collected herself, buttoning and zipping her jeans. She ran a hand over her clothes to straighten them before she got busy digging around in her purse for her house key.

  “It was…unexpected.”

  Marion turned to the door, hoping he didn’t see the embarrassment on her face. “Really. I’m very sorry.” She twisted the lock and pushed open the door. “Good night, Graeme.”

  “Marion—”

  But she shut and locked the door before he could finish.

  * * * * *

  “Aren’t you going to an awful lot of trouble for a faked run-in?” Delilah gave her a once over as she stood behind her.

  Delilah was dressed to kill in her best Chanel black dress and Christian Louboutin satin pink four-inch heels. She completed the outfit by carrying her favorite Prada handbag. She wore a simple string of pearls and no earrings and all that strawberry blonde hair hung in gorgeous silky waves over her shoulders.

  She was stunning.

  “How come you always look better than me?” Marion complained.

  Compared to Delilah, Marion was a low-end fashion diva. While she loved shoes and clothes as much as her best friend, she could never bring herself to spend five hundred dollars on a pair of shoes or a handbag. She chose her bargains wisely.

  “I tried to loan you my Dolce and Gabbana dress but you wouldn’t have it.”

  “I know me,” Marion said. “I would feel horrible if I spilled a drop of anything on your dress.”

  “That’s what cleaners are for, darling. Anyway, you didn’t answer me about the dress.”

  Marion smoothed her palms over her forty dollar black dress, making sure it was as form fitting as she thought it should be. She couldn’t resist it when she saw it in the store—and the best part was it was on sale. Yes, she probably was going to a lot of trouble. Especially after the embarrassing episode on her front porch. She wasn’t at all sure how she could face him after that.

  However, she was determined. She would have Graeme in her bed—or his—tonight if it was the last thing she did. She had to finish what they started on her porch and soon. And she hoped slipping between the sheets with him was the last activity of the day.

  “I want to look nice, that’s all,” Marion said. She picked out her favorite four inch heels and slipped them on.

  “My ass,” Delilah muttered. “Mar, when are you going to admit you have a thing for this guy?”

  “I don’t.” She propped her hands on her hips and looked at her friend in the reflection of the mirror. “We’re friends.”

  “Friends, huh? You dress up in slinky black dresses and red four inch heels for a friend?” She shook her head. “I hope this friend comes with benefits.”

  Marion rolled her eyes. “Come on, Delilah. I haven’t had fun in so long. Not since Ethan. I haven’t had an excuse to go anywhere or dress up or anything.” She reached for her lipstick. “This is a chance to actually go out and be with someone I like and have some fun. That’s all.”

  “I’m just saying you want to get naked with this guy.”

  Of course she did. Now, if not sooner. “And is that such a bad thing?”

  Delilah looked thoughtful for a moment and then heaved a sigh. “No. I suppose not.”

  “Good, then, because I plan to seduce him tonight.” She smiled broadly as she picked up her black handbag.

  “That’s why you had me drive tonight. So you could hitch a ride home with him. You sneaky little bitch, you. I can’t believe I fell for that.” Delilah pursed her lips. She followed Marion through the house and out the front door.

&nb
sp; “You got it.” Marion knew pulling off a small coup like that would be difficult, especially with Delilah, her overprotective friend.

  “Do you think that’s such a good idea? I mean, you barely know him.”

  Marion hadn’t divulged her dirty little secret—that she and Graeme got hot and heavy on her front porch a few days ago. She wasn’t about to release that information now. As for the barely know part, she had known Graeme for a long time. She thought she knew his temperament better than most men who’d filtered in and out of her life.

  “Don’t be silly,” Marion said. “I’ve known Graeme as long as I’ve known Ethan.”

  “Yeah, but…” Delilah’s voice trailed off.

  “Delilah, don’t worry. Really. I’m attracted to Graeme and I think he’s attracted to me. What else is there?”

  “A bloody lot, if you ask me. Mar, you’re setting yourself up to get hurt. You know that right?”

  She turned to her then, placing a reassuring hand on her arm. “Relax. I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing. It’s just sex and nothing else.”

  Delilah looked less than convinced as Marion reached for the passenger door. “It’s never just sex, Mar. You’re a woman. When you take your clothes off with someone, there are always emotions involved whether you’d like to think so or not.”

  “Delilah…” she groaned.

  “I just don’t want to see you hurt. Ethan nearly destroyed you—”

  “And that was six months ago. It’s time to move on.”

  “But with Graeme?” She gave her a sour look. “Couldn’t you pick someone else to move on with?”

  Marion pursed her lips and heaved an annoyed sigh.

  Delilah put her hands up in surrender and nodded. Marion could tell she had more to say, more convincing to do. Instead, she merely walked around the front of the car and got in without another word.

  Marion shut the door and buckled her seatbelt. She knew Delilah had a difficult time understanding her need for Graeme but she needed her friend to support her, no matter what her decision. She knew, deep down, Delilah did, even though she gave her hell about it.

  As they started toward Dallas, butterflies erupted in her stomach. Tonight, she vowed, she would be with Graeme. The thought of defeat never crossed her mind.

  * * * * *

  After dodging several wrecks on I-35, the two finally made it to the design district where there were multitudes of interior designers and art galleries. The Craig Mueller Gallery was a big stone building that seemed rather nondescript. And really not in a very good part of town. As they parked and headed toward the building, Marion’s heart was in her throat, pounding hard. Her head pounded too. What was she thinking? Was she insane coming here? What would Graeme think when he saw her? She should be home, watching her DVR instead of chasing after some guy.

  What if she didn’t understand his art? For that matter, what if he was awful? Could she keep a straight face if she thought his work sucked?

  “Still going through with it?” Delilah asked, giving her a sidelong glance. It was as though she could read her thoughts.

  “Yes,” Marion replied, sounding more sure than she felt. “Yes, I am.”

  “All right then. Let’s hope they have cocktails. And lots of them.”

  Inside the gallery patrons mingled and—thankfully—held glasses of wine or champagne. Marion knew she would need more than one drink to give her the courage to get through this night. Especially if she intended to plan a seduction, which she hadn’t really figured out yet.

  If only she could be more like Delilah who was always so sure of herself. She always knew the perfect innuendo in any situation.

  She didn’t know what she was going to say to Graeme when she saw him.

  The floors of the gallery were shiny black; overhead the exposed ductwork gave the building a modern feel. Freestanding walls painted white showcased the art. In a special exhibit hall to the right were Graeme’s paintings. There was already an impressive crowd.

  Finely dressed men and women mingled throughout the gallery, talking in hushed tones. They drank champagne and ate hors d’oeuvres of smoked salmon on a wafer thin cracker. There were mini quiches and some kind of tartlet that passed by on a silver tray.

  “He’s had quite the turn out already,” Delilah said, voicing Marion’s thought. “Impressive.”

  “I was just thinking that.”

  A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne flutes and Delilah flagged him, snagging two glasses. She handed one to Marion.

  “What sort of paintings did you say he did?”

  “Fantasy art,” she said as they entered the room.

  “You mean the kind with half-naked women?” Delilah asked.

  The sight of his paintings made her forget any response. She couldn’t believe how many there were spaced evenly on the white walls. And they were all so amazing. The first one she paused to admire depicted what looked like a war from medieval times in the background. In the foreground, a beautiful black-eyed maiden stood on a grassy knoll, her long red hair flowing in the breeze, her pale white hand clasping a cloak at her neck. In her other hand, she held a blue-white orb extended toward the soldiers. White lighting burst from it, illuminating her face in that same glow. There was something about the painting that seemed as though Marion could reach out and touch the orb in her hand. The piece was entitled Unearthly Maiden.

  “Wow,” she breathed.

  And it simply was breathtaking.

  Delilah stood rock still next to her, staring wide-eyed at the painting in awe. In fact, Marion saw her mouth agape.

  All of Graeme’s paintings seemed to capture a time long ago but mixed an element of fantasy. Their depth gave them that three dimensional affect and she had to keep from reaching out and touching the paintings.

  “He’s good,” Delilah said.

  “Why do you sound surprised?”

  “I don’t know, but I really am. How does he have time to do this? Didn’t you tell me he designed web pages?”

  “That’s what he told me.” Marion sipped her champagne, feeling the bubbles on her throat. “Clearly, he didn’t tell me everything.”

  “Clearly,” Delilah agreed.

  “Marion?”

  She recognized his voice from behind her and she froze. She didn’t want to turn around and see him yet she couldn’t stop herself. Slowly, she turned to the side and peered at him over the rim of her glass. She gave her best fake surprise.

  “Graeme?”

  He wore a pale green button-down tailored shirt that molded beautifully to his muscular body. She could clearly see the outline of his biceps and chest muscles. The top two buttons were undone giving her a peek at what was underneath. She wasn’t quite sure what color his pants were since she couldn’t get past that shirt.

  “This is a pleasant surprise,” he said, smiling. “I never expected to see you here.”

  “Oh…well, Delilah got tickets and since they were both free, we figured we’d check it out. You remember Delilah, right?”

  Her friend glanced her way, surprise registering before she quickly overcame it and pasted on her best smile. “I remember you,” she purred. “It’s been a while.” She extended her hand.

  “Sure, I remember her. Maid of honor at the wedding.” Graeme shook her hand. “Good to see you again.”

  At the mention of the wedding, a stabbing pain went through her. Why did people have to keep bringing that up? That was in the past. Sometimes she wished the past could be erased as easily as erasing a chalkboard. Marion downed her champagne and then wished immediately for another one.

  “And I thought this would be boring,” Delilah said, still putting on the charm. “Looks like there will be some good looking men here tonight, after all. Right, Marion?”

  “Uh, right.” Marion never took her eyes off of him. “So, Graeme, is this the work thing? I had no idea.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t tell you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and glance
d around the room before landing on Delilah. “What brings you here?”

  Marion held her breath. They hadn’t rehearsed what their story would be, but she knew her friend was quick on her feet.

  “I have an old boyfriend in the business,” Delilah said, lying coolly. “He sent me the invite, hoping I’d be charming enough to bring him. Too bad I’m not that charming.” She glanced around the gallery, appreciating the scenery of good-looking men. “Glad I didn’t too. There’s plenty of eye candy to keep me busy.”

  Graeme laughed and Marion expelled the breath she’d been holding. An uncomfortable silence lapsed and Marion wasn’t sure what to say next. Graeme wasn’t all that forthcoming with information either. She shifted from one foot to the other, trying to figure out what to do next and feeling like a total fool.

  “I’ll get us another drink,” Delilah said, even though her glass was still full. She took Marion’s empty and replaced it with hers.

  Marion could swear she heard every click of Delilah’s heels as she walked away. Perhaps she could sense the tenseness between them and thought it best to make herself scarce so they could talk. At least, that’s what Marion thought but Graeme wasn’t making a move to explain anything to her.

  “Why not?” she finally said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t think it was important.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “You think the fact you’re famous in the art world isn’t important?”

  “Oh, come on, Marion. I’m not famous.” He waved it away, as if it were no big deal.

  “Maybe I should quote your bio from the gallery’s website. I believe it said you were an ‘extraordinary new and young talent’ and that you were garnering ‘strong attention within and from outside the art world.’ And, as I recall, there was even something about your art being widely collected by institutions and individuals across the US.”

  Graeme stared at her in utter disbelief. “That’s what it says, huh?”

  “I was paraphrasing.” She sipped her champagne, finally starting to feel the effects of the alcohol.