by Kim Linwood
The whole place is neat and tidy, like a model apartment that no one lives in.
I don’t know who Gavin really is, but he’s money and that somehow makes me even more nervous.
There’s a large fireplace in the corner that flares up when he hits a switch on the wall, filling the room with silent, flickering light. “I like the real wood ones better.” It’s the first thing he’s said since we left the club. “Gas is convenient, but it’s just not the same sound and smell, you know?”
Right, like I’m the type of girl who has opinions on decorative fireplaces that probably cost more than my car. I turn to him. This is all too much. I just need to get it over with. I haven’t changed my mind, but it makes me a little sad to think that my first time has turned into something to get over with.
When I speak, I hear the tightness in my own voice. “Where’s the bedroom?”
He chuckles. “Well, aren’t you all business tonight? Fine, this way, babe.” Crossing his arms over his torso to peel his t-shirt off as he walks, he casually throws it aside while he leads the way to a closed white door.
I’m glad his back is to me, because while his shirt didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, I didn’t expect all the ink that covers his massive torso. Abstract designs made with sleek edges and sharp points wrap themselves around his left shoulder and arm. A pair of Chinese dragons in full color spew fire across his back, undulating as he moves. A single lone dove decorates his right side.
Do they mean anything? I want to ask, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not here to get to know this guy. He’s just taking my cherry. I don’t need to know anything about him except that he’s good in bed, and something tells me he will be.
As soon as we enter the room, he turns, putting me face to chest with his massive inked pecs. He’s chiseled like a Greek god, a masterwork even Michelangelo would’ve been proud to show off. I get the urge to touch him, to trace the designs on his skin with my finger, but I don’t. It feels too personal. Unlike sex. This is crazy.
Putting his finger underneath my chin, he lifts my gaze to meet his. It’s smoldering, his hazel eyes deep and intense. The flecks of color seem to change in the flickering light from the fireplace. Mine feel almost plain in comparison. No matter what he’d said about my eyes earlier at the club, I think I’m the one at risk of getting lost.
He leans close, and I barely get my hands up onto his powerful chest before his lips claim mine. I hadn’t meant to kiss him. For some reason it feels more intimate than just doing it, but suddenly there’s a current running through us, raising all the little hairs on my arms into tingling goosebumps. I don’t push him away. Hell, I even kiss him back. God, he feels good.
His hands drop to my shoulders, then slide softly down my back, gliding over the skin exposed by my dress. Experienced fingers find the zipper and tug, sliding it smoothly down towards the small of my back.
Oh crap. It’s finally happening. I’m really doing this. Closing my eyes, I try not to think about it too much. I’m doing this for us. For me and Paul.
Right? I couldn’t really want this arrogant jerk. He’s just a means to an end. My thoughts flit back to Paul and I almost stop right there. Am I doing the right thing? The obvious answer is no, but then I already know that.
I stop thinking. Instead I explore Gavin with my hands, running my fingers across his silky skin, his tight abs, tracing the inky designs that cover him. His body’s so hard, so strong. He can do anything he wants to me and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. I’ve put myself right into his power, which is both incredibly scary and ridiculously sexy. There’s intense heat building inside me, making me want to get out of my suddenly too warm clothes.
He’s happy to help, sliding my dress off my shoulders and down my arms before letting it drop to pool around my ankles. I’m standing here in just my underwear and heels, vulnerable and terrified, yet shivering with need. How does his touch do this to me so easily? If I’d felt this with Paul, there’s no way I’d have been able to wait. It seems so wrong. I shouldn’t be wanting Gavin more than my actual boyfriend.
His hot fingers trace across my skin, sliding over my sides and down to my hips, then cupping my ass and pulling me closer. He’s still wearing his pants, but the large bulge is unmistakable as it presses against my stomach. I shiver in fear, or anticipation.
Tracing a path along my jaw and down into the crook of my neck, his soft lips kiss and nibble their way across my skin. With one hand still holding me close, he glides his other up my back until he reaches the catch on my bra. I draw a sharp breath, holding it.
The lacy garment gives, going slack around me as his clever fingers release it with a practiced ease. My breath comes out in a shudder while he hooks his finger between the cups and tugs. That infuriating smirk still covers his handsome face, but his eyes are dark with desire. I’m not the only one affected.
Heat rushes to my face and down my front as my breasts are exposed. My nipples could cut glass, they’re so hard. When his hand starts at my stomach and strokes upwards to cup a breast, I let out a moan. Cassie insisted that first times are supposed to be awkward and terrible, except this is anything but. And if first times can be good, should I even be here?
I find his belt buckle and tug, suddenly eager to move on to the main event. I’m liking this too much, and that’s not the point. That can’t be the point. Gavin’s nothing more than a one night stand to build my confidence, not... whatever this is.
The buckle gives, the fly next. Tugging on his zipper, I work it down until his pants come loose and slide down his thighs. They catch halfway, but he lets go of me long enough to work them down. He never stops kissing my neck, and once his hands are back on me, his lips slide lower, approaching the swell of my breasts.
I’m hyperventilating. I’m going to boil over. His hands are all over me, stroking, squeezing, caressing, making me feel like there are two of him, even three. Expertly, he makes me tingle and shiver under his touch, building my anticipation until I think I’ll explode.
Just as he takes a nipple in his mouth, he hooks his fingers in the elastic of my panties, and as he swirls his tongue around the hard point, he tugs, exposing parts of me that no man has ever seen.
The first brush of air against my sex drives home the reality of what I’m doing, and it washes over me like a bucket of ice water. I have a boyfriend. And I'm cheating on him. Letting another guy see me naked before Paul ever has. So maybe Paul’s never made me feel like this, but that’s no excuse. I was crazy for thinking this was a good idea.
“Wait.” I take a step back, my nipple slipping out of his mouth with a soft pop, and my panties still halfway down my thighs. “I—I can’t do this.”
“Hey, it’s alright, babe. I’ll be gentle.” He slides his hands along my sides, his touch slow and seductive. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I swallow, trying to ignore the tingles his talented fingers create along my skin. I repeat myself with more conviction. “No, I mean it. I can’t.”
He stares at me, his face—and other things—, hard. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re saying this now?”
I rip my eyes away from the huge bulge in his black underwear. “I’m sorry. I really am. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry,” I repeat pathetically, yanking my panties back up as fast as I can, and hurriedly picking my bra up off the floor, unable to look him in the eyes. “I shouldn’t be here. Damn it.”
“Seriously?” He’s incredulous, and I don’t blame him. I’m angry at myself for thinking I could be okay with this. “Little Miss Let’s Get This Over With?” He tugs his underwear down, and my eyes go wide at the sight of his huge dick springing free. He gestures at it with a sneer. “Not even a sympathy blowjob? I’m sure a cocktease like you has had plenty of experience keeping guys out of your pants. You owe me that much.”
My cheeks burn, but I catch myself licking my lips. What’s wrong with me? I pick up my dress as quickly as I can and run for the door. �
��I’m sorry. I can’t.” As I snatch my purse off the leather couch, I feel my chest tighten and wet tears form in the corners of my eyes. I’m such an idiot.
The last thing I hear from Gavin is a frustrated groan, “You've gotta be fucking kidding me!”
I shut the door behind me, finally taking the time to slip my dress back on before hitting the down button on the elevator. I push it over and over like it’ll come faster that way, praying he doesn’t come out before I’m gone.
Good job, Angie. Good freaking job. I can’t even get no-pressure sex right.
My senses are all focused at his door, waiting for it to open, but it doesn’t sound like he’s following. In fact, I hear the heavy metallic click of a lock. It’s an angry, accusative sound that makes my heart ache even though I should be glad he’s letting me go with nothing but a few well-earned insults.
The elevator dings, a soft, pleasant chime that’s in total contrast to how I’m feeling, then I’m inside, my stomach surging as I start the slow descent back to reality.
I’m never listening to Cassie again.
Chapter 3: Angie
“So.” Mom looks at me from across the kitchen table, the corners of her soft eyes crinkled in concern. The delicious smell of dinner cooking in the oven fills the room, though I hardly notice, lost in my own thoughts.
It’s been almost three weeks since The Incident, as I’ve come to think of it, and I’ve been on edge since, hardly leaving the house. I’ve hardly spoken to Paul, though he’s called a couple of times, wanting me to come over. Mostly to fool around, I think. I just don’t know how to face him after what I did, or almost did, depending on how you look at it. One stupid night, and now suddenly everything feels weird and wrong.
I’m sure Mom’s noticed, but I haven’t brought it up and she’s let me be. I doubt that’s what she wants to talk about, though. She’s never liked Paul anyway. Not even Cassie knows exactly what happened that night, since I haven’t been willing to talk to her either. It’s stupid to be mad at her, since it’s not like she forced me out on my one-night-stand attempt at gunpoint or anything. I still am, though.
I put down my book and meet Mom’s gaze with raised eyebrows, trying to forget about my messed up life for a few minutes and inviting her to continue.
“You remember Herbert, right?” She’s playing with the hem of her shirt nervously. Usually that means she’s going to tell me something I don’t like, or that she’s nervous. It doesn’t happen often though, and I get a funny feeling about this conversation. “The man who’s been visiting my flower shop.”
Yeah, I remember him. The guy she’s been seeing for a few months now, even if she refuses to come out and say it. I think it’s kind of cute.
Mom’s got a little shop that she’s been running for years. It’s not doing that great. Everything was good for a couple of years, but then the neighborhood gentrified, rent skyrocketed, and some unexpected maintenance killed her budget. She might have to close, which is really too bad. Me and that shop are her whole world, and I’m about to head off to college.
Herbert is a super-rich CEO type. Apparently he came in one day to buy a bouquet, and somehow they hit it off. It sounds like something out of a cheesy romcom, but she’s happy, so I hope it lasts. She’s been alone a long time.
Four years, eighty-two days, but who’s counting?
I put on an encouraging smile. “Yeah, sure. Well, not that you’ve let me meet him yet. Why, what’s up?” This is it, right? When she finally admits they’re a couple? I get why she’d be nervous, but this seems over the top.
She smiles, but it doesn’t take away any of the anxiousness. Her fingers have left her dress, but now they’re tapping a tattoo on the table, her long nails clacking quickly on the imitation wood. Her anxiety brings it out in me too, and I have to consciously keep my fingers in place so I don’t do the same as her. She’s about to spring something big.
Straightening in her chair, she chews her lip nervously. “Angie. This is going to seem really sudden.” She clears her throat. “You know I loved your father. I still do, but he’s been gone four years.”
Oh God, she had to go there. Even now, my chest gets tight. I was fourteen when it happened, but it hurts just as much now as it did then. Dad was a hot shot helicopter pilot in the Navy, but after flying who knows how many missions in Iraq, he was given the option to come home and become an instructor and he jumped at the chance.
We’d been so happy. He’d finally be home with us and we could be a normal family. Then a few years later, he led what was supposed to be a routine exercise, teaching a couple of students to fly in formation. They were barely off the pads when one of the helicopters veered into his and they both hit the ground.
Nobody survived.
It’s ironic. All that time praying for him overseas in combat, and it was some green kid at the academy who ruined it all. We knew there were always risks with flying, but it doesn’t mean I miss him any less.
Mom watches me silently, probably knowing what I’m thinking, and waiting for me to give her my attention again. It was hard for both of us. I swallow back the big lump in my throat, then give her a slight nod.
“After I met Herbert... well, I’ve begun to remember some of the things I missed. Having a partner, someone to confide in, to be close to.” She notices my sharp look. “Honey, of course we’re a team. You also fill a lot of those roles, but it’s not the same. You’re about to set out and start your life for real. The thought of my little girl moving out breaks my heart.” She smiles fondly. “But I’m also so proud of you. My baby, going to college. Pre-med, no less.”
God, this lump’s just getting bigger. Dad. Mom gushing. If this is just the lead up to her big revelation, I’m in trouble. Whatever she has on her heart, I don’t think it’s going to make the lump any smaller.
She puts her hand on my knee. “Herbert will never replace your father, but, he’s beginning to fill some of those roles. Faster than I would’ve thought possible. He’s strong, and possessive and caring, and... and I’ve fallen in love with him.” Her eyes are wide and teary, she’s so nervous. She knows how much I miss Dad.
It does hurt a bit, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so terrified, so I hurry to smile. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting it sooner or later. “That’s great, Mom. Really.” It’s true. She does need someone, and I can’t be that person. It’s not the same. But he’s not Dad. “I’m happy for you.”
Her relief is obvious, the way her shoulders and face relax, the way she eases back a bit in her chair. She swallows thickly. “That’s not everything.” Licking her lips, she picks her words carefully. “Herbert proposed to me last night.”
My heart stops, and I can almost feel the blood draining from my face. Dating, sure. Overnights, awkward but fine. Proposed? She has to be kidding me. It slowly dawns on me that she wouldn’t me telling me this if she’d said no. I look at Mom expectantly, willing her to continue. “And...”
She closes her eyes briefly. “And... I said yes. I’m sorry, hon, I should’ve spoken to you first. It’s just the two of us now, and I shouldn’t have—”
“Mom!” She looks up, startled. Sure, I’m freaked out, but if she’s found happiness, then it’s definitely not my place to get in the way, even if I’m screaming inside. This is going to require some serious thought later, but for now I put on the biggest grin I can and throw my arms around her neck. “I’m so happy for you. Congratulations!”
“Really? You’re sure? You have no idea how terrified I’ve been to tell—”
“Yes!” I cling to her. I am happy. Concerned, but happy. “You deserve it, Mom. But he better not try to make me call him Dad or anything, alright?” I try to sound like I’m joking, but I’m not really.
Apparently I don’t hide it well enough. Mom peels me off her and puts me at arm’s reach. She looks me in the eyes like she always does when she’s being earnest. “Never. You guys will have to find your own relationship and what works for
you. I’m just terrified that you’ll think I made a huge mistake.”
I shake my head softly. “No, Mom. So long as you’re happy, I’ll be happy. That’s the only requirement I have for him. That he makes you happy.” I’ve never been good at strict, but I frown and try to look serious. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll take him out.”
She gives me that look. The one where she’s not sure if I’m joking or not. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, alright?” A smile passes between us, and everything’s good again. Then the doorbell rings.
“Expecting someone?”
Mom gets up to answer the door. She stops, smooths down her skirt and checks herself in the mirror. She usually wears a little makeup, but I suddenly realize it’s more than usual. And how did I miss those bright red lips?
“I asked him over for dinner. I thought it’d be a good chance for you guys to get to know each other better.” She pauses for a minute. “Oh, he has a son. I should’ve mentioned that. He’s a bit rough around the edges from what I’ve seen, but Herbie insists that he’s a good guy underneath it all. So you’ll have a stepbrother now, too.” She throws me a brief smile, then hurries to the front door.
Herbie? And a stepbrother? She definitely could’ve mentioned that earlier. Not that it changes how I feel about anything, but I like to have all the facts so I can prepare. I got that from Dad, I think. Him and his checklists. I stand, take a deep breath and smooth down my shirt. Alright, let’s get this over with. A brother might not be bad. I’d always wanted a sibling. Better late than never I guess.
Their voices carry through the house from the entry. Herbert’s voice is deep and gravelly, like he used to smoke. Or still does, I suppose, but that doesn’t sound like Mom’s type. I give them a moment to say their hellos before I approach.
“Hello... um...” I just realize I have no idea what to call him.