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“Hard as it is to resist you in your drunken, messy, somewhat smelly state, yeah, ’fraid not.” He grasped the bottom of my shirt and tugged it up my chest. “Raise your arms,” he said. I did and he pulled my shirt off. “You’re on your own for your pants, Romeo.”
My eyelids were feeling heavy anyway, so I didn’t bother arguing anymore. “But I get a kiss, right?” I asked. I really wanted that kiss.
Chase smiled at me fondly, hunched down, and cupped my cheek. He pressed his lips to mine in a soft, gentle, perfect kiss. Then he walked over to the bathroom. I admired his ass as I toppled across the sofa and shoved my pants down over my hips.
“Good night, Adan,” he said, looking at me over his shoulder.
“Good night, Chase.”
I was out like a light before he left the bathroom.
Chapter 11
INTRODUCTION
Charlie (“Chase”) Rhodes
I’M NOT a complete idiot.
Okay, I feel better having gotten that off my chest. Because I suspect it’s what you’ll think when you hear that the next picture in the album relates to Adan. And it isn’t one of a curb. (Kick his ass to the curb, get it? No? Fine. Whatever.)
Now, here’s the thing: I knew Adan wanted to get into my pants. I mean, with the way the guy was working it like the rent was due tomorrow, I’d have had to be comatose to miss that. But despite all of his come-ons and more than slightly horrifying warnings about what he wanted to do to me, the look in his eyes and expression on his face when he gazed at me made me certain he had more than sex on his mind.
Not that there’s anything wrong with sex. I don’t want to give you the impression I’d committed myself to celibacy during the five years between when Scott walked out of my life and Adan walked into it. I had flirted with guys over the years, dated guys over years, and slept with guys over the years. But what I hadn’t done was connect with any of them. Until Adan.
From the first moment he approached me in the bar, I felt a twinge of interest that had been missing from my emotional Rolodex. And the more time I spent with him, the stronger that interest got. He was sexy, sure, but that wasn’t the draw. Okay, fine, it was part of the draw. But he was also smart and unintentionally funny, and he made me feel wanted.
So when he made no move to leave my apartment Saturday morning, I followed his lead and forged ahead with the assumption that he’d be hanging out the rest of the weekend. We went to the store on the corner for groceries, but other than that, we spent two days holed up in my apartment. We laughed a lot, drank some, and managed to get to know each other along the way.
By Sunday evening when we were saying good-bye, I wanted to get naked with Adan as much as he wanted to get naked with me. But strangely enough, I felt like we knew each other too well for that. And yet didn’t know each other enough. Bear with me here; it actually makes more sense than it seems at first glance.
When I met a guy at a club or anywhere else and decided I was going to take him home, I generally didn’t know anything about him except how he looked and the few tidbits of information I picked up between the meeting point and the bed. And that was more than fine; it was a plus because it eliminated all awkwardness and expectations. To be clear, I don’t just mean his expectations, I mean mine too. A hookup was a hookup; my brain and heart knew that, so they didn’t get involved and left the heavy lifting to my dick.
After the time we had spent together at dinner the first night, followed by the weekend, Adan and I knew each other too well to categorize any sex as a hookup. And yet, whatever we were forging together was so new, so fragile, that I didn’t know what to call it or how long it’d last. So I didn’t want to introduce sex into the relationship, because it wasn’t at all clear we were in a relationship. Basically, we were in some sort of sexual dead zone until I knew rolling into the bed wouldn’t destroy what I hoped we could become.
Because the truth was, no matter how easy it was to find willing and attractive bed partners and no matter how busy my life was with work and friends, I missed the comfort and connection that came with being part of a couple. I missed having someone to call about mundane things and important things. I missed feeling like I mattered, really mattered, to somebody. I guess what it came down to was that I’m one of those people who feels happier being in a relationship than living the single life, and for the first time since my relationship with Scott ended, I had finally met someone who intrigued me enough to want to try coupledom again. But first I had to navigate the dangerous field of dating when there was more on the line than a couple of orgasms.
