Wow, being in public alone is weirder than I thought. Usually I'm in such a rush to get through my lunch that I barely notice it, but now, having just a coffee, it feels too lonely.
I think back to what I left in Chicago: the life I had, or thought I had. There is no way I'm going back to Matthew. I’ll have to start all over. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all. As the saying goes, whatever happens, happens for the best.
My thoughts are interrupted. A man is standing next to my table, and I look up at him without registering what he is saying. He looks at me as if expecting an answer, and I realize he was talking to me. I guess I was too deep in thought. I blush slightly.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" He tilts his head, smiling at me.
"I was wondering if this seat was taken."
I look around, trying to see if there are any open tables, and notice the cafe is completely full. When did that happen? Must be lunchtime, or some five o'clock tea time around here. It was rather quiet just minutes ago. So the guy is not openly hitting on me, probably just wants to sit down. I point to the seat across the table.
"Of course, please!"
Instead, he lowers himself down onto the other side of my love seat, completely ignoring the chair on the opposite side. I reconsider whether he’s hitting on me.
I'm so used to being with someone, in a relationship, or engaged that I subconsciously reject any advances in my direction. But I'm single now, single! I guess it will take some time to get used to.
I see the menu by my side and hand it to the stranger.
"Here, you might want to take a look." I smile and watch him. He takes the menu and our fingers brush for a mere fraction of a second. I look up at his face, and really look at him this time. He’s wearing a pair of wrap-around sunglasses that shield his eyes completely. His face is tan, covered in a typical Armani-style stubble. Strong cheek bones, full lips, and a straight Roman nose finish the look. Something about him seems very familiar. He busies himself checking out the menu, and I take a moment to study him further. His hair is light brown with occasional dirty blond locks, probably burned by the sun. It’s wavy and messy. He is dressed in a light beige shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his muscular forearms. Jeans tightly hug his thighs, and a rather prominent bulge. My eyes don’t linger there too long, for fear of being caught.
He seems young, but I can't tell how young. The shades cover too much, and I wish he had removed them. I doubt that would be happening—we are sitting outside, and the sun is merciless. I realize my face is equally hidden by my huge Diors, an advantage when it comes to checking him out.
I look away just in time to avoid being caught ogling him. How lucky!The waiter materializes again, and I wonder if he’s somewhere spying on patrons—this cannot be pure coincidence.
My new tablemate places his order for some southern variation of an espresso drink and turns to face me. The top few buttons of his shirt are open, giving a sneak peek of his tan chest, and I wonder what it looks like bare. It must be spectacular and built, firm and tan. Wow, where did that come from? I look away and try not to blush again. Oh my, this is embarrassing. Thank god for the shades, at least they half-cover my face and blushing cheeks.
"Let me introduce myself, I'm Alex." I extend my arm for a handshake.
"I'm Emmeline." He takes my hand in his, slowly turns it, and places a soft kiss that wakes a flurry of butterflies in my stomach.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Emmeline."
I immediately love the way he pronounces my name. He has the slightest British accent, mixed with something else. I cannot quite place it, but it is sexy as hell. His voice is deep, yet soft, with silvery undertones. My hand is still in his, and I feel reluctant to break contact.
"I see you've been shopping." He points to the pile of shopping bags in the corner and I nod. My La Perla bag sits prominently on top.
"Yes, guilty as charged." I smile and wonder if he noticed what exactly I've been shopping for.
"Most guys hate taking women shopping, I actually find it rather amusing. If you do it right, it's like watching a kid on a Christmas morning, plus you get a fashion show out of it. I would have loved to see you trying those on." He chuckles, and I know he means the lingerie.
"I guess you would, wouldn't you? Too bad I'm done." I giggle and smile at him. Two can play this game.
"Are you here to shop?" I ask. He looks at me, amused, and smiles.
"Yes, indeed. Did you want to see the fashion show?"
"That depends on what you'd be shopping for."
"Does it now?" He gives me a one-sided smile, and I melt. I guess it does not, but I'm not telling him that. In truth, how often does one get to see a hot guy trying on clothes? Exactly! But this hot guy is a stranger I just met, so this would be highly inappropriate.
We are interrupted by the waiter placing our drinks on the table.
"Allow me." Alex says, reaching for my glass and handing it to me. Our fingers brush again and I feel the butterflies in my stomach coming alive. I haven't had such a reaction to a guy's touch since I was a teen, and even then, it was different.
We spend the next half hour talking about everything and nothing. It’s fun and easygoing; we steer clear of talk of personal things. At the end, all I’ve learned about him is his name. I'm not sure about him, but as for me, meeting new people is still awkward. Although I’m single, I have a hard time wrapping my head around it. Besides, I’m trying to keep a low profile here.
"Well, I better go, I still need to unpack and try everything on." I joke, pointing at my pile of shopping bags.
“You wouldn’t want to miss that. I know I wouldn’t for sure!” We both laugh. Alex gets up to his feet, throws a few bills on the table and extends his arm to help me off the couch. He raises my hand to his lips and kisses my knuckles again.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Emmeline. If you need company for your fashion show, keep me in mind. I promise to be honest and objective!”
Just for a second I imagine him watching me and immediately feel my nipples tightening with arousal.
“Maybe next time,” I laugh, to avoid looking flustered.
“Then, there will definitely be a next time,” he says, the confidence in his voice leaving no doubt. It would be a lie to say I’m not looking forward to it.
Gathering my bags, I try to step between people and tables without knocking anything down. Alex gets a hold of the whole bunch in one swift motion, and raises them high above us with one hand, while putting his other at the small of my back and guiding me out. My skin feels hot under his touch, and I almost want to slow down and enjoy it a moment longer. We pass the tables and I stop to turn around and thank him. As I turn, I bump into his chest and his smell invades my nostrils. He smells of some cologne that I can't place but really enjoy. It's masculine, yet lightly fresh. Alex looks down as I look up and our faces are just inches apart. I am frozen, mesmerized by his proximity, and he doesn't move either. Finally, I step back and look down then back up at him. What if I kissed him now? What if I asked for his number? What if? But instead I extend my hand, palm up, to get my bags back. He keeps them by his side.
"Where are you parked, I’ll walk you to your car?"
"I'm on the second floor, but you don't have to do that. I'm a big girl, you know.”
“I’m sure you are. Lead the way!" He places his hand at the small of my back and leads me around people and columns. It seems he has no doubt about where to find my car. I feel small next to his large frame, and enjoy the contact his hand is making with my body. We move in unison, reminding me of the ballroom dance classes I took as a child.
"Are you parked somewhere here as well?"
"Yes, I think we are actually in the same lot."
We make it to my car and I open the trunk to load everything.
"Fun car, isn't it?" he asks.
"Oh yes, I love it!" My voice is full of excitement and met by one of Alex’s trademark, lopsided smiles.
>
He opens my driver’s door, and I’m caught between him and the car. Our bodies are so close that the smallest movement will put us contact. My eyes are level with his tan chest, peeking out through the open top buttons of his shirt. His unique scent invades my senses, and I want to inhale him as deeply as I can, and nuzzle my face in the crook of his neck. Instead, I’m only capable of taking a shallow breath and trying to control the moan that was about to escape my mouth. Slowly, looking up, I see my own reflection in his sunglasses. He lowers his face and his cheek brushes against mine, stubble gently scraping my skin. Goosebumps spread all over my body. Then his lips touch me in the gentlest kiss right along my jaw line, and I feel his exhale of hot air against my skin. He must have been holding his breath, same as I did. I melt against his touch just for second, pleasure surging through my body and culminating in my core. I wish I could run my hands against his tan chest, kiss my way up his neck to his sensual lips, get lost in the kiss. My thoughts are invaded by a raspy whisper in my ear.
“Till next time, Eline. I will see you soon.” Another brush of his unshaven cheek against mine and he straightens and steps away.
My world immediately lacks his scent and touch. His sudden retreat nearly throws me off balance. A tan, muscular arm is on my elbow, righting my stance.
“Till next time.” I try my hardest to look unaffected by him as I turn and get behind the wheel.
In seconds, I start the car and open the roof. Alex is standing a few steps away now, giving me room to back out of the spot. I can't tell what he’s thinking, his eyes are still shielded by the sunglasses. The last I see of him is in the rearview mirror before I make a turn and lose sight of him.
The road leads to Collins Avenue, and I turn left to go north. What was that just now? I’m trying to process the last hour in my mind, and I’m having a hard time doing it. The way he said my name when he kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, it was so unlike anything I’m used to. My parents prefer Emily, so by default, that’s what I go by if I’m not addressed by my full name. I like Eline better, especially the way Alex said it, with his accent.
So I met a guy, a nice and sexy one. We spent an hour together, but somehow it feels as if he knows me more than I know him. Why haven’t I gotten his number, or given him mine? He never asked, that’s why! But then he insisted on seeing me again, and it looked like he meant it. My head is swimming with questions. When it comes to dating guys, and flirting in general, I’m so out of practice.
What if he asked more questions? I would hate to go into details about the long, disastrous relationship I’m coming out of. Who’d want to hear about that? No one! Especially no one interested in a short-lived vacation fling. I need to put aside all this personal business about coming here to find myself. I’ve got to start thinking more positively! I've had a great day, and I don't want to spoil it now.
Ten minutes later, I get to my building and give the car to the valet. Once upstairs, the unpacking begins. The clothes are hung in the closet, lingerie put away in the dresser drawers. Everything is organized and it’s not even 5 p.m.
What should I do? It’s so weird to have these days to myself, with no one to talk to. I change into a pair of linen shorts and a lacy top and decide to go for a walk along the beach. The sun is already setting and the sky is beautiful. It’s pink and purple all at once.
Five
The sand feels so warm and soft under my feet. I wiggle my toes and dig into it a little deeper while contemplating where to go. To my right is the new fishing pier, the one I passed on my run this morning. The whole shoreline should be visible from there, and it will be just gorgeous. Walking by the water, I’m holding my flip-flops in one hand and picking up seashells with the other. Soon my palm is full, and I have nowhere to put them. Next time I'll bring a bag.
Memories of myself as a little girl surface. Picking sea shells, building castles in the sand, playing in the waves. Those were great and uncomplicated times. I spent a lot of vacations by the ocean, and fell in love with it.
On occasion, I feel as if someone is watching me. Looking around, I see random people, yet no one familiar, or even remotely interested in me.
The pier is lined with benches facing both ways. Settling down to look north, I really begin to admire the view. The skyline is indeed breathtaking from here. New buildings have been popping up over the past few years and there are barely any empty lots left between them. An hour or so passes by unnoticed. Next thing I know, the sun has set, and the buildings are all lit up. Looking back the way I came, I’m debating if I should walk back along the shore, or go grab something to eat first. Some food would be great; my stomach is rumbling.
On the other side of Collins, at 163rd, I find a cozy cafe with an outdoor terrace. Perfect choice! It’s a self-service Mediterranean place with an extensive list of salads and sandwiches. I’m starving, and the aroma inside drives me crazy. Finally, I get my tray and settle down on the outside terrace. Either I’m too hungry, or I’m getting better at these lonely meals.
The walk back home along Collins takes about half an hour. As tempting as watching the moon over the ocean sounds, I am not walking the dark beach alone. Moving at half my normal speed, I’m looking around, learning my surroundings. Occasionally, I have the same feeling: the feeling someone is watching me. I think I’m becoming paranoid.
Once home, I take a long, relaxing bath, turning on the jets in the Jacuzzi. The streams of water massage my back and shoulders in a relaxing way. I close my eyes and see Alex’s face, feel his touch, his feather-light kiss on my cheek and a raspy voice in my ear: “Till next time, Eline. I will see you soon.” Goosebumps run across my body all over again, my nipples becoming tight. I run my palms over my neck, shoulders, and breasts, going to the sensitive area right under them. I’m craving a touch. I lightly pinch and twist one nipple with two fingers, pleasure shooting straight to my core. My other arm works its way down the flat surface of my stomach and lower. I go straight to my sensitive nub and feel it slick with my arousal, even in the water. My fingers circle a familiar pattern and in seconds the coils inside are tightening. I close my eyes and see Alex’s lopsided smile, his lips moving as he speaks, a glimpse of his tan chest showing through an unbuttoned shirt. I want to slow down, prolong the pleasure, but I’m just too turned on. I feel the first wave of orgasm sweeping over me and go under. Slowing down the run of circles my fingers are doing around my clit, I plunge two in and curl them to reach the sweet spot inside. I’m gasping for air, moaning, and going through another wave of orgasm. As it wears down, I slowly pull my fingers out and run them lazily up and down across my slit. This was intense. I guess a good fantasy can go a long way.
My body feels deliciously relaxed and tired all at once. I get out and wrap myself in the softest towel, still feeling sensitive. The air-conditioned bedroom feels too chilly, so I go to the terrace. Settling down in the lounge chair, I lay back and relax.
It’s dark, and the full moon is hanging low over the ocean. The white foam forming at the tops of the waves looks silvery in its light. Wave after wave crushes against the sand. The sound is lulling me to sleep. The breeze blows over the exposed parts of my body, caressing the warm skin. At some point, I drift off to sleep. Waking up from the chill of the night, I make my way to the huge, king-size bed. I slide the door closed, but I’m just too tired to care about closing the curtains or turning off the night light. I climb under the covers and fall asleep immediately.
I watch her.
Back on her terrace, in the same spot, sleeping, as if she has not a worry in the world.
I pull away and get back to business.
My eyes wander to her delicious body from time to time.
I don’t touch the optics. They put her too close.
I need the distance. I need my focus back.
I wake up disoriented. It’s dark outside. Wondering how long I’ve slept, I check the clock. It shows 10 a.m. The horizon line is blurred and everything is gr
ay and gloomy. Tropical storms are no fun. In fact, this one lasts all day, and I stay in reading a book. I’m so lazy that I order room service throughout the day and never leave my condo.
Thankfully, the wind is blowing the rain drops away from the rails and I can stay out on the balcony. The city is half asleep, no pedestrians in sight, empty beaches, fewer cars. Even the air smells differently, the scent of the ocean more prominent. The day goes by slowly, but I enjoy it nonetheless.
Going to bed early, I hope for better weather tomorrow.
Six
The morning sun is in my face and I open my eyes to greet the day. There is no sign of yesterday's storm. The clock on the nightstand is showing 7 a.m. That’s 6 a.m. Chicago time—not bad for vacation. I get up to check the weather outside. It’s warm, but not hot yet, perfect for a morning run. I stay on the balcony for a few minutes, truly admiring the view and serenity of the city still asleep.
Then I realize the sun will be fully up soon and hurry inside. Minutes later I’m ready and head down to the beach. I leave my things on the sand and start stretching. This time I decide to run north, to the left of my building, starting slowly and working up the speed as I go. I love it! I lose myself in running, just concentrating on my moves and breathing. The warm ocean water is at my feet and I run ahead, one foot in front of the other, free as a seagull.
At some point, I look to my left and there are no more tall buildings along the beach, just private homes. I must have run far enough to get to the Golden Beach. I slow down to look around. When I look back the way I came, I see a guy running my way, still quite far away. Something about him looks extremely familiar.
I stop to catch my breath, look around, and spot a pretty shell. Bending down, I pick it up, then a few more. I’m always on the hunt for beautiful ones. The beach seems littered with them after the storm. In the few minutes I’ve been busy collecting my trophies, the man has caught up with me. Turning back, I take a good look, only to realize it’s Alex. My heart skips a beat. I’m surprised and beyond delighted. I’m not sure if this is a coincidence or something planned, but I really don’t care at the moment.
ONE To Watch Me (The ONE Series, Part 1, Book 1) Page 3