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“My apartment.”
“Are you alone?” I ask.
“I will be, until you get here.”
I’m already searching for my keys somewhere between the words until and you. My messenger bag is over my shoulder, and I’m switching the lights off. “Text me the address. Barring traffic, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
The elevator takes me to ground level and out toward my parking structure. GPS says four minutes. Even better. I pull out of the garage and take a left. I make it out and over the bridge toward the campus without hitting one light. The traffic gods are ever in my favor. Dylan gives me the code to her parking garage, as well as the code for her elevator.
I feel an unfamiliar tingle in my chest. I can’t wait to see her. The elevator slows to the eleventh floor. The bay seems central to the building. As I exit, there are four doors: two to my right and two to my left. 11D is hers. D for Dylan and D for desire.
Casually propping myself against the doorframe, I give two quick knocks before crossing my arms over my chest. I wait and hear nothing until the slow rotation of the dead bolt and the creak of the door give way to my blonde beauty. Her brightorange sports bra makes an excellent pairing to my oversized joggers on her frame.
“I know I said twenty. I hope I didn’t catch you off guard.”
“Not at all. Come in.” She reaches for my messenger bag, lifting it from my shoulder, then backs up for me to pass by. I inhale deeply as I do. Fucking hell. She saunters behind me step for step into her kitchen. I don’t know what I expected her apartment to look like, but this surprises me.
Every wall is exposed brick with some knocks to random ones all over. This place has seen some history. The entire space is dotted with large pipes and valves, in and along the walls. Most of the lighting is from backlights attached to the brick. It shines straight up giving sundog effects in every corner of the room. Her furniture is sparse but colorful.
Her small sofa is a bright blue with seafoam and black floor pillows stacked on either side of the round white coffee table. Her television is on a corner console, opposite the kitchen island that separates the two spaces. She has three barstools at the counter, one orange, one yellow, and one lime green.
Her kitchen is complemented in all stainless steel with hints of seafoam and black. Behind the sofa is a large, nearly thirty-by-twenty, hardwood space. Ballet bars run the length of both walls with eight-foot-high mirrors that reflect every bit of light and movement in the entire room.
“Where do you sleep?”
She sets my bag down carefully on the kitchen counter before extending her hand to me. Dylan walks backward down a short hallway through a frame with no door. Her bedroom is massive. It’s the full length of the loft. It’s divided into four distinct areas. The upper left corner is the bathroom. The old two-person clawfoot tub is the centerpiece with a rigged rain shower attachment and a full wraparound shower curtain.
“That looks like fun.” I smirk.
“We’ll try it later.” She holds my palm up and kisses the center, while staring with her blue gray eyes right back at me.
The upper right-hand corner is her queen-size bed. The mattress and box spring are angled into the corner, with flowing curtains that part to the sides over the top third of the bed. The flowing canopy reminds me of something straight from a Persian fairy tale. I’d like to be part of that world.
The lower right corner is two giant bean bags with a large audio system. The speakers are nearly two and a half feet tall each with a woofer besides. She has everything she’d need to mix her own music. Then just inside the door to the left are two ten-foot racks with a large chest of drawers between them. On the floor are two racks of shoes. There are sneakers of every shape and color on one and most of the other, but oh that other half rack. Seven pairs of fuck-me heels: one for every damn day of the week.
“This is home,” she says, breaking me out of my erotic fantasy.
“It’s great. I’ve learned so much about you by just being here.”
She slides up, pressing her body against me. At first, her cheek does a dance against my chest. Then her hands join in at my waist, followed by her hips gently swaying in my hands. It’s only then her eyes look up for me. That’s when I smirk and repeat her words to her. “And there… and there…”
“See. It’s easy to do, isn’t it?”
“And oh so hard,” I growl in her ear. Everything inside me is twitching. I can hardly be near her and not touch her. “I want you so much.”
“I know.” She smirks.
So. Damn. Cocky.
She kisses the side of my neck and does what Viper does best and slithers away. Dylan then calls from the kitchen. “Need a drink? I don’t have wine but how about whiskey?”
“I’ll take one. Make it a double.”
She giggles. “Coming right up.”
I take about three deep breaths before I can safely move toward her voice and body again. She’s kicked out the barstool for me on the corner. I sit down as she slides the glass across the counter to me. “There you are, Goose. Tame those flames.”
“Wes is going to love you.”
