Win for Love

by Isabelle Peterson

  Turning my thoughts to all positive things, I take in the gorgeous view of the lake in front of me. The sun is just setting behind us and casting an orange glow against the sky ablaze with purple and a few wispy clouds. The waters are fairly calm and dozens of boats, both sailing and motor boats, bob gently in the water. Closer to the edge of the water, lights from the buildings that line the shore twinkle back their reflection. It’s so peaceful and magical. It feels as though anything is possible.

  I turn from the view and step back into the living room looking for David wondering where he’s gone off to. I nearly jump when I see him just standing there leaning against the wall next to the impressive stereo system, and I now hear the soft music playing, staring at me.

  “What are you looking at?” I ask timidly.

  His eyes rake up and down me before he says, “A beautiful view.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing,” I say turning back to the picture-perfect scene.

  “I wasn’t talking about the lake,” he says softly from right behind me.

  He places his hands on my hips and pulls my hair aside before placing a kiss on my neck. His lips are soft and warm, better than I had remembered. I turn and lock eyes with him for a moment. He searches my eyes as though he’s looking for permission or something as if he needed it. I'm putty in his hands. He leans forward and kisses my forehead, then down on my temple, my cheek, then my jaw. When his lips finally meet mine, his fingers tighten their grip on my hips, and he pulls us together.

  I can feel his erection at my belly, and heat pools between my legs, my legs that are shaking and might give out on me at any moment. I press my hips to him as I stifle a whimper trying to tamp my own desires, my body and mind fighting one another.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, pulling his mouth from my lips and dropping his forehead to mine, pulling his body away slightly. “I said I’d be a gentleman, and I’m failing before five minutes have passed.”

  I want to scream, Just take me!, but I don’t seem to be able to do or say anything.

  “Come on. I’m hungry. Let’s check out what’s in the fridge.”

  He takes my hand and leads me back through the room to the kitchen. He flips a switch because it’s getting dark, and the room comes to light. When I take in the gourmet space, I audibly gasp. I’ve only seen pictures of kitchens like this and always thought they were fake—just for a magazine shoot. But this kitchen is every bit like those. The rustic yet modern air is carried into this space with dark wood cabinets and a shiny stone surface. A six-burner gas stove, a massive double-door refrigerator, and a dishwasher—all stainless steel. There’s an island in the center of the room with a small copper sink in it. Above the island is a rack with shiny pots and pans hanging proudly. Under one of the long edges of the island sits a row of stools that look like they’re from old tractors. On the main countertop, in one corner, is an elaborate coffee maker. The lighting seems set to make everything look like a showroom.

  “So, let’s see what we have in here,” he says letting go of my hand and heads to the fridge. He pulls open the doors, and inside, it’s well stocked for a single man. Plenty of fruits and vegetables, a jug of milk, and a carton of orange juice. His eggs are in a clear bin instead of the Styrofoam container they’re sold in. There are also a few plastic containers of takeout and the standard collection of condiments.

  “I’m no chef,” David says, “but we have chicken, green beans, and…” He walks over to a tall cupboard door and looks inside. A second later, he pulls out a bag of tiny red potatoes.

  “Can I help?” I ask.

  “You’re my guest. I’m going to cook for you. But I’d love it,” he answers, smiling widely.

  We both head to the sink and wash our hands then set about filling pots with water to boil. While I wash and cut the potatoes, I do my best to focus on the task at hand. His fingers work nimbly as he decides to get fancy with the chicken making cutlets, then coating them in flour, egg, and breadcrumbs.

  “I thought you said you weren't a chef,” I tease.

  “Well, if learning a thing or two from your mom and grandmother makes one a chef, I guess I'm a chef.”

  “Did you cook often with them?”

  "Oh yes. They insisted on it. It was how I best learned my fractions, too.”

  “How’s that?” I ask.

  While we continue with our jobs, he tells me how his mother hid the other measuring cups keeping only the one-quarter and one-third cups, and also had just the one-eighth and one tablespoon measuring spoons. He had to figure out how come up with the full amounts for various recipes.

  How can I tell him that’s similar to how I used to cook, but it was for entirely different reasons? My mother didn't teach me any cooking tricks, only how to pour a Screwdriver. Instead, when David asks, I simply tell him I'm self-taught.

  “Do you teach yourself a lot of things?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.

  “Yeah,” I answer and bite my lip to keep from laughing.

  “Good. I like a self-made woman.”

  Well, he’s got one! I think to myself then pull back and warn myself that this could all be gone in the blink of an eye—just like with Leo—and not to get my hopes up. When will I ever feel comfortable and secure?

  17

  A Gentleman

  CRYSTAL

  After the simple, and perfectly cooked, chicken dinner, complete with candlelight, David and I curl up on the leather sofa in his living room. David logs into a music-streaming site and plays me some music of his favorite bands—Thirty Seconds to Mars, Twenty One Pilots, and One Republic.

  “You certainly do have a thing for numbers,” I joke.

  Next, he lets me find and play some of my other favorite artists for him like Luke Bryan, Maren Morris, and Dierks Bentley.

  “Not gonna lie,” he says with a grin. “I never really listened to country music before today.”

  “New country,” I correct.

  “New country.” he repeats and winks at me. “All I knew was Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash and banjos.”

  Letting the music-streaming station take over as our private DJ, we sit talking, laughing, and exchanging stories and opinions for quite some time.

  “You know what’s the most amazing thing about you?” David says when our conversation grows quiet, his voice dropping to that sultry tone.

  My cheeks heat at the unexpected ‘warning’ that a compliment is coming my way.

  “Tell me,” I say brazenly then bite my lip, so I don’t say anything else that might get me into trouble.

  “That you’re so unassuming, genuine, beyond sexy… and you have no idea.”

  What in the hell do you say to that?

  “I need to kiss you,” he says. “May I? I promise. Gentleman.”

  Slowly I nod.

  David leans over and cups the back of my head with his large hand and pulls me to his mouth. His lips gently come down on mine, and I melt into him. Feeling my response, he doubles his efforts, his tongue sliding across my lower lip which makes me gasp. My mouth now open, his tongue tentatively breeches the space.

  Sure, we made out last week on the boat, but I could tell he was being ‘gentlemanly’—just like he’s being now. Frankly, I’m done with that at this point. I want this funny, smart, kind, handsome—ridiculously handsome—man.

  Boldly, I bring my hand to his knee slowly sliding it up his thigh. My hand burns and tingles feeling his muscles tense under the black denim.

  Something akin to a growl escapes his throat as he firmly takes hold of my ponytail in a fist. With my hair as a handle as it were, David pulls our lips apart. “You’re playing with fire,” he warns me.

  The need in his voice is so evident, yet only half the urgency I’m feeling. I push my hand down into the space between David’s thighs and return my lips to his.

  The grip he has on my hair tightens as he presses into me, his tongue sliding luxuriously across mine. I’d never been one for hair pulling, but go
od gawd! Right now, with David, it’s perfect and only ramps up every flame already ignited in my body to a full blaze. I navigate my kisses to David’s jaw and up to behind his ear as my hand pushes upward until I reach his crotch.

  “Talia,” he cries out, desperation thick in his voice. “I’m about to stop being a gentleman,” he warns.

  I lift my lips to his ear and whisper brazenly, “What if I say you can stop?”

  He clenches his impressively powerful thighs together, tightly trapping my hand. I pull back, and we lock eyes. I see the passion in him and want it. All of it. I want us to make that final connection. I feel like it’s all that’s missing.

  His eyes bore into me… pleading, seeking answers. I nod slightly, and his eyes drift closed as he takes a deep breath in through his nose, then releases it through his mouth. His eyes open again, he stands, and in a swift, determined motion, scoops me into his arms. My arms instinctively wrap around his neck, and, his eyes not leaving mine, he carries us off to the hall he’d said was toward the bedrooms.

  DAVID

  Consumed. That’s the only way to describe how I’m feeling right now.

  I know I said I would be a gentleman, but God help me, I don’t know if I can. My need for her is unlike anything I’ve ever felt and scares the ever-loving shit out of me.

  I can’t get over how perfect she feels in my arms. Just as perfect as she felt when I’ve kissed her, held her hand, stood near her. But this—carrying her off to my bed—this feels more than perfect. Is there a word for that?

  18

  Ruining Me

  CRYSTAL

  I’m filled with lust and overwhelming desire. I dare say if I looked in a mirror, I wouldn’t recognize myself.

  Gazing up at him and those brown eyes as they sparkle in even the dim light of the hallway, I pull myself up to his lips to kiss him. As it always has been, it’s like a charge of electricity surges through my body.

  David stops walking, his lips locked on mine as he holds my upper body tightly while he lets my legs down easy. In a rush, I find myself pushed up against the wall, and the kiss deepens. His hands work their way to the bottom of my blouse, and they snake under the fabric. The touch of his hands on my skin stokes the fire within, seemingly within us both. In one swift movement, David grabs the fabric and lifts it overhead breaking our kiss.

  I’m left panting, breathless from that kiss, and now, half-naked in his hallway.

  I’m turned on more than I can process. I can practically feel his eyes on my skin as they take in my simple, lace-trimmed bra. Wondering myself what lies beneath his shirt, I step forward and slowly untuck the black knit fabric then push it up to his shoulders. David grabs the bunched-up fabric and pulls it over his head and drops it to the floor where it joins my shirt.

  Even in the dimly lit hallway, I can see that his chest is a work of art as I knew it would be. Hard planes across his upper body, rippled abs on his core, and bulging biceps all speak of the hours he must spend in the gym. I’d already gotten quite a view of his calves on the boat and can only wonder what his thighs and ass must look like—

  And then there’s his cock.

  If the rest of his body is any indication, it’s all beautiful.

  Involuntarily, I lick my lower lip, and David pounces pinning me to the wall again, pressing that cock I was just imagining into me.

  God, I feel like a hussy. I want him so badly.

  The small mewl that comes out of my throat seems to drive him wild, and he wraps his hand around the back of my head, fisting the ponytail that still hangs in place. His fingers fumble with the elastic, but he slowly manipulates it and pulls my hair free from the confines. He pulls back and watches as he fluffs my thick hair around my face and shoulders.

  He breathes slowly before cupping my face and kissing me again, not letting go as he starts walking backward gently pulling me as he leads. It all feels like a movie or a dream, one I never want to end.

  David stops abruptly, and I bump into him. I glance and see we’ve backed into a door. He reaches behind him and unlatches it, then pushes that door wide open behind him and escorts the two of us inside.

  The room is magnificent. The wall of windows that graces the rest of the water side of the apartment continues here, and the moon reflecting off of Lake Michigan illuminates the room which features bright white linens and dark woods.

  He walks me to the foot of the bed and then stops. He stands back and looks over my body as I stand there in my white satin and lace bra and red shorts awash in the moonlight. I watch his reaction carefully trying to figure out what he’s thinking. Am I good enough? I’m not curvy. I don’t work out or take fancy classes to tone my body. I’m just about to cover my mid-section with my arms when he starts to walk slowly until he’s standing behind me.

  He pulls the curtain of my hair from the right side, draping the strands all over my left shoulder. He kisses my exposed shoulder as his hands slip in front of me, first caressing my belly then sliding up to my breasts. He rakes his fingernails over my breasts catching on my already turgid nipples causing a vibrating energy to course through my body. His lips don’t stop devouring my shoulder and neck as he pulls the cups of my bra down, exposing and pushing up my modest mounds. His hands cover my bare breasts, testing the softness of the skin, and zeroing in on the contrasting rippled skin of the areola and nipples. He explores my nipples by gently pinching them and rolling them between his fingers. I gasp and moan at the sensation that has been so different from his soft touches.

  My hands fly to his, holding them there, willing him not to stop. His kisses reach my ear, and he whispers, “Do you like that?”

  “Uh-huh,” is all I can utter to let him know that I do.

  He sucks on my earlobe and continues to fondle my breasts, and I’m feeling like I might come if he doesn’t stop soon.

  Maybe he senses that because his fingers cease with the pinching and pulling, and he covers my breasts with his hands again, gently caressing the skin. His kisses start to pull from my neck and are being scattered across the top of my back and down my spine. The kisses stop at where my bra strap is latched, and he lets go of my breasts to expertly undo the clasp. Tracing the shoulder straps with a delicate finger, they slip under the narrow fabric when he gets to the tops of my shoulders and with torturously slow movements, he lowers the straps over and down my arms until my bra falls to the floor. David steps up close behind me, his hands again latching to my breasts as he pulls me to him, his bare chest to my bare back. He looks down and then kisses my jaw until he’s back at my ear sucking on my earlobe.

  His hands slowly leave my breasts, and David walks around to stand in front of me again.

  I’m fearful of what he thinks having no doubt that he’s been with many women before me. Women with much bigger chests than mine. I start to cover myself. My boobs looked great in that bra. The bra gave me a lift and made what little I have look like more.

  “I do believe that you have the world’s most perfect breasts,” he whispers before he leans forward and latches a mouth onto my left nipple, swirling his tongue around the pebbled skin. He sinks to his knees, planting kisses as he lowers to my waist. Slowly sliding his fingers into the waistband of my shorts, he slips the button from its hole then he slides the pull on the zipper down. He’s doing all these things so slowly I think I may lose my mind.

  I want to reach down and shove my shorts off and pull him onto the bed, but then he kisses my stomach with his fingers holding my hips tight. My legs start to shake.

  It’s like he’s worshiping me.

  Me!

  My hands float to his head, and I curl my fingers through his silky, dirty blond hair. That small action triggers something in him because he decides that my shorts must come off, and in a swift movement, my shorts and panties are removed, and my ass is bare, not to mention my girlie parts… just inches from his mouth. He starts alternatively planting kisses and running the very tip of his tongue across my lower belly snak
ing his way down to the soft patch of coppery curls covering my mound as his hands slide up my legs until they reach my butt, and he holds me to him.

  His tongue slips out and wiggles to find my sensitive bud, and my knees nearly give out. He looks up at me, his sinfully dark eyes glistening, and a sexy smile graces his mouth.

  “I must have done something so very right to have you,” kiss “here,” kiss “with me,” kiss “like this,” kiss “now.”

  I’m speechless.

  He stands and kisses my mouth solidly stealing the breath from me—erasing the world around us.

  Again, he scoops me into his arms and carries me to his bed laying me down before him.

  There I lay, his eyes scanning every inch of me. A naked me. It was one thing when I had clothes on, or even just my bra. But to be totally exposed, and his eyes making a meal of me, is another thing altogether. My breath races, and I cannot control it. I don’t know if it’s because I’m lying on a bed that smells exactly like David, or because again I can feel his eyes on me. He watches my chest with my modest breasts as my nipples strain for his touch. My insides clench and stir… my girly parts tingle. I cannot wait to be with David to feel him inside of me. I’m taken aback that I’ve never really felt that way with any guy I’ve been with. Sex was more for them. David is making this a whole new ballgame.

  As David’s eyes rake over me, taking in every inch, I watch him—all parts of him. I want him so badly, I ache. With the moonlight pouring in from the wall of windows, I take my time looking him over like he is doing with me. I take in his heaving chest and rippled abs. I’m enthralled by the small smattering of chest hair he has, and I ache to touch it. I want to feel it as he presses his naked body into me.