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Chelsea
“You weren’t kidding when you said you like eel rolls, were you?” Ian laughs as I pop another piece of sushi topped with wasabi and pickled ginger into my mouth. I just shake my head, smiling, mouth stuffed full of sticky rice.
Finally I swallow and sigh happily. “This stuff is really good. Where did you get it?”
“You’ll never believe me,” he says, dipping sashimi into soy sauce.
“Try me.” I can’t believe it, but I’m totally flirting with him. In my house. I’m still not really sure how we wound up here, with Ian Monroe stretched out on my couch, sending suggestive glances my way every time I lick my fingers. I never have figured out the hang of chopsticks. He manages them masterfully, of course, but I’m fine with using my fingers. Especially if he keeps looking at me like that.
The craziest part of all of this is not that Ian is in my house, or even that I managed to work up the nerve to get him here. It’s what I want to do with him now that he’s here. The craziest part is that I keep imagining getting on my knees in front of him and making him reach out for support as his legs go weak with my mouth wrapped around hi
s cock. Or the way his eyes catch mine and send a sizzle of electricity straight to my clit when he grins. He’s got to know the effect he’s having on me and he’s just toying with me.
But it’s okay, because I’m still trying to convince myself that I’m really going to do this. Inviting him here was a big enough move in and of itself, but taking this any further? That’s going to be like base jumping. A big leap of faith just hoping and praying I don’t wind up splattered and broken at the end.
“I dunno… It might ruin the mystique.”
I roll my eyes and pick up my unused chopsticks, jabbing him in the thigh with them. “You just don’t want to tell me so I’ll be beholden to you whenever I crave eel rolls.”
“I’m more than happy to supply you with all the eel rolls you could ever want, sweetheart,” he says, mischief glinting in his eyes.
It takes me a minute and then I drop my jaw in a shocked expression and toss the chopsticks at him.
“That is not what I meant.”
Ian shrugs, twirling my chopsticks before going for more sashimi. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
He says it casually, an offhand comment, but those few words flood my whole system with warmth. It’s not like it was a secret or anything that Ian’s into me. We’ve already kissed. We had that talk on his bench by the ocean. I should be past this nervous insecurity around him, but still, hearing the confirmation that he’s trying, that he’s definitely interested, sends a thrill through me that makes me shiver.
“All right, all right, I’ll tell you. But you have to swear to keep it a secret. If the whole city found out about this place they’d be sold out every day.”
I nod, stuffing my mouth with a piece of the California roll we’ve been sharing and holding up three fingers on my right hand. “Scout’s honor,” I manage without spitting any rice on him.
He narrows his eyes at me and tilts his head to the side. “Were you really a Girl Scout?”
“You’re changing the subject,” I tease.
“Fine, fine.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “You’d make a damn good interrogator, you know that? It’s in Koreatown—”
He stops at the look I give him and grins. “Yeah, I know. Sushi in Koreatown, crazy. But that’s not the part you’ll have trouble believing. There’s a little Korean market—”
“You are not feeding me grocery store sushi,” I say, feigning complete shock and dismay.
He sucks in a breath and looks contrite; it takes every bit of willpower I have to not laugh at him right now. “I’m afraid so. I know it will do irreparable damage to both of our high-class luxury lifestyle images, but it’s the best damn sushi I’ve found this side of the Pacific.”
“I think it’s definitely best if we keep this our little secret,” I say, complete seriousness taking over even as a bubble of laughter threatens to burst out of me.
Every time I remember why I invited Ian over, I get incredibly nervous all over again. Then the longer I’m talking with him, spending time with him, joking and teasing with him, the more comfortable I am. The less crazy it seems that I want to straddle him and ride his cock until we’re both completely spent. But it’s not just that, either.
It’s not how attractive and talented he is. It’s the way he makes me laugh. The silly things he does just to get a smile out of me. It makes my heart skip a beat every time and washes the nervousness away like sandcastles in the tide.
“So,” he says, standing and clearing the empty to-go containers off my coffee table, “should we get to work?”
The reminder of my pretenses for getting him here almost catches me off-guard. Yes, we definitely need to work on the song, but that’s really not why I wanted him to come over and I thought he fully understood that when he agreed. Maybe I misread him. Maybe he really is only here to work on the song. Maybe I’m being a fool for throwing myself at him when he’s trying to keep things professional.
But then I remember him saying I like you too, Chelsea while the ocean breeze ruffled my hair and I cling tight to that memory, refusing to let doubt get the best of me. Whatever happens, happens. No need to rush or force it.
“Yeah, sure, the studio’s through there and to the left. You can’t miss it,” I say, heading to the sink to wash my hands. Even though I gave him directions, Ian’s waiting for me at the start of the hallway and slips his hand around me, resting it on the small of my back as I lead him down to the studio.
