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He had messaged me earlier in the day to let me know how much he was looking forward to our time together, but I doubted that this was his first date in years, like it was for me. I was back on the scene at last, and with a bang, too - or at least a pop. He was gorgeous, smart, attentive, gorgeous... though I think I mentioned that one already. I hoped that he was as attractive in person as he was in–
And before I could think another word, he walked in. And the whole world stopped moving for a moment.
No wonder they had to keep him all the way out there on the oil rig for most of the year – if he had been on land year-round, he would have caused riots. He was tall, a solid six feet, with that dark, curly hair a little grown out and a smattering of deep brown stubble over his chin. His brown eyes scanned the room for a moment, and it was like the breath had been knocked out of my body. How was I meant to think straight when he was right there, looking like...looking likethat?
Finally, his eyes landed on mine, and a huge smile cracked out over his face. I smiled back, and I rose to my feet as he got closer to me.
"Abigail," he greeted me with my full name; his voice was deep and rich, a little gruff around the edges, just the way I had imagined it. Not that I, of course, had spent any time at all imagining it.
"Joseph," I breathed back, and he ducked in to give me a kiss on the cheek in greeting. Mmm – his aftershave was something expensive, something classic and masculine and spicy, though there was something else going on underneath it that had my hair standing on end. I wanted to bury my face into his neck, but I figured that might have been a little forward.
When he pulled back, I felt like my feet were barely touching the ground. Could he feel it, too? The way he was smiling at me, he had to be able to feel it – to feel the rich, powerful lust between us, that seemed to block out everything in the room. He was wearing a button-down shirt in a soft, pale blue, and I wanted nothing more than to send all the buttons scattering to the floor around us.
"Can I get you something to drink?” He offered, gesturing to the bar.
"I would love that," I agreed, deciding to stick to short sentences for now. Best to make sure that I didn’t come across like a totally monotonous fool.
"Red wine, right?” He asked, and I nodded and smiled. I couldn’t remember mentioning it to him, but in the flurry of messages that we had explained, it was natural that I would have forgotten something.
"You grab a seat. I’ll get us our drinks," he told me, and I did as I was told. When he spoke, it was like something deep and profound within me just wanted to obey. I wouldn’t have described myself as a naturally rebellious person, but I couldn’t think of a time when someone had managed to have this profound of an effect on me within moments of us first meeting one another.
He headed back with our drinks a moment later. When he sank down into the thickly-padded armchair next to mine, I found myself gazing at him stupidly. I knew that I shouldn’t have been so damn obvious, but it was so hard not to stare when everything about him was just so perfect.
"Feels a little odd to be here in person, right?" He remarked, and I nodded, glad that he had given me a cover for the way that I was ogling him.
"Yeah, little odd," I echoed, and I took a sip of my wine. It tasted expensive. I liked it at once, and allowed it to seep into my system and get me feeling a little less nervous about how this was going to go.
"It’s so good to meet you properly," he murmured to me, and his eyes scanned back and forth over my face as he took me in. "I thought about you a lot out there. Feels like I’ve known you forever."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," I agreed.
There was something profoundly familiar about him, something I hadn’t yet been able to put my finger on. I put it down to some deep soul connection, perhaps.
That was easier to explain than anything else.
From there, the conversation started and didn’t stop for another two whole rounds; he was as eloquent and charming as he had been over the phone, and I adored his company more than I could find words to say. I noticed that a few women glanced in his direction when they saw me with him, and I found myself feeling that little zing of triumph knowing that I was the one he had chosen to be with for the course of the night. I felt like showing off, telling the world that he had picked me and that they should be jealous.
He told me about his life out on the rig, the assholes he had to work with, the friends he had made as part of the company. Sharp, witty, and bright, his words kept me engaged all night long until the light had begun to dim in the city streets beyond the windows, and a little rain had started to patter up against the glass. The sound of it was soft, soothing, much like the sound of his voice as it slipped through me. I felt like I could have listened to him speak all night long.
He was curious about my life, as well, though he didn’t pry; he let me set the tone for what I wanted to tell him, and I found myself spilling more than I thought I would have the nerve to. He made me feel so comfortable in just telling him all this stuff that I would have kept wrapped up and quiet before, all these secrets that I knew I should have kept to myself. Like who I had dated in high school, where I lived, how long I had stayed there alone, the dreams I had about moving out to the Orkney islands and teaching there...it wasn’t anything scandalous, but I shouldn’t have been dropping so much of it on his lap out of nowhere. I was meant to be holding back, wasn’t I? Playing it at least a littlesomewhatcool. But I felt like I had been holding back long enough in the time that I had known him, and now that he was here before me, I had no intention of doing it for a moment longer.
"I’ve traveled up to the islands a few times," he remarked. "It’s gorgeous out there. When you can see it through the mist, I mean."
"You should take me next time you go," I told him, and I realized at once how those words must have sounded coming out of my mouth – talk about being a little forward on a first date.
"Oh, I didn’t mean it like..." I began to correct myself, but before I could finish up, he had reached out and covered my hand with his. He was smiling at me. I had thought he would run for the hills as soon as I gave him a hint of what was actually going on inside my head, but if anything, he seemed to like it.
"I would love to take you there one day," He replied, and he squeezed my hand softly. The pressure of his skin next to mine made my heart sing for a split second. My breath caught in my throat, and I had to calm myself before steam started coming out of my ears. His thumb grazed over my knuckle, leaving a hot trail right behind it as it went. I could already feel a heat beginning to build between my legs. I needed him. I knew that it was too soon, but I needed him, and I couldn’t imagine holding back even if it was a really bad idea. I was certain there were rules for this kind of thing, rules that would have told me that the best thing I could do was hold back and leave him wanting more, but there was no way I could let that happen when all I needed was...
"Do you want to walk me home?" I asked him, suddenly. We were halfway through our drinks so there would have been no reason for us to leave, but the thought of being stuck here and surrounded by all these people when the only thing I wanted was to get my hands all over him made my chest hurt.
"Right now?" He asked, sounding surprised. I nodded.
"Right now," I agreed. My heart was pounding and I was sure that he was going to politely turn me down, maybe let me know that he liked me so much as a person but that this wasn’t going to work out. I didn’t know that I could have handled it if he had. I mean, I would have found a way, of course, but when I looked at him it seemed as though everything just made sense and clicked into place. I needed more of him.
"Of course," he replied at once, and he threw back the last of the whisky in his glass and got to his feet. Offering me a hand, he pulled me up to stand beside him, and for a split second, it took everything that I had in me not to lean up and kiss him. God, if I could have just let it happen...my body ached for it, my lips suddenly parched for his touch. Did he know what he was doing to me? Did he know how long it had been since I had felt like this for anyone? Did he know that I was beginning to wonder if I had ever really felt like this before in my life?
He held on to my hand as we made our way out of the bar, and I noticed the barmaid giving us a knowing look – I was sure she knew just what was going to happen as soon as we were out of there, but I found it hard to give a damn about being the subject of her idle glance.
