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Lily
I pace my living room, trying hard to swallow past the lump in my throat and the fluttery feeling in my stomach. I blame my excitement about today on how amazing this article will be for my business. It has nothing to do with those jewel blue eyes or that over confident smirk, both of which sneaked into my mind last night while my pink toy vibrated between my legs.
A blush heats my cheeks. I wasn’t thinking about his eyes or mouth last night. I just saw features that I like. Features anyone can have.
My phone buzzes in my hand signaling a text from a 480 area code.
Come downstairs. It reads.
My heart thumps so hard in my chest, I’m sure I can hear it. I continue to pace my living room unconsciously swiping my fingers across the black screen of my TV as I pass.
Okay, this is fine. He’s just another ignorant playboy. I’m not worried about how seductive he is. I trust myself, and I know I most certainly will not be feeding into his sexual suggestiveness. I’m a strong independent woman. Even though I haven’t been touched by a man in quite some time, I’m confident that I will behave myself on this date. If not for my own beliefs, then for the integrity of my article and this interview.
I take a deep breath, move around my small coffee table, in between my leather tan colored couch and the cheap, black entertainment center that houses my TV among other electronics, and cross the living room.
As I lock my front door, the wet, sweltering heat sticks to me instantly. It’s awfully humid today, and I have to use my hand to shield my eyes from the blinding beat of the late morning sunlight. I really need to find some time to shop for sunglasses. I can already feel my clammy skin breaking out in a sweat. Considering that it’s only the middle of May, it’s disrespectful of this stupid Alabama heat to be so intense so early in the day.
I’m glad I wore my favorite summer dress. The sleeveless top fits my slim shoulders and back nicely, and dips in to cling to my waist. The bottom begins right at my navel and bells out just slightly, giving me a fake hourglass shape. I’ve always hated how long my legs are, but in this dress, I look like I have a model figure.
I didn’t specifically pick this dress because it’s one of the only things I own that actually makes me look hot. Obviously, I don’t care about looking hot for Stefan, and I don’t care if he’ll like it or not. I chose this dress because it’s so hot outside, and I know I’ll be much more comfortable in it than jeans or something.
As I follow the sidewalk around my building, I come to the front to see a glossy black sedan parked next to my hardly driven car. I can barely hear the low hum of the engine. I take another deep breath and flip my hair over my shoulder.
I almost freeze when Stefan smoothly steps out of the car and walks up to meet me. The way the sun hits his hair illuminates the shiny brown and gold strands hidden amongst the much darker, almost black locks. The royal blue button down shirt and gray pants he wears clings to his body in ways that make me picture what he must look like without them. His black shades hide his beautiful eyes, but that cocky smirk is fastened to his face. His outfit, beautifully trimmed beard, and shades paint the picture of the smoking hot billionaire that he is.
I feel my heart kick off in my chest. When he reaches me, he slides his hands around my waist and presses a kiss to my cheek. I stifle a shiver.
“You look beautiful,” he says in my ear, his beard just barely scratching my cheek. Damn, he smells good. Gritting my teeth, I step back sucking in lungfuls of hot, wet air to get the smell of him out of my mind.
“Thanks,” I mutter. “Can we go?”
He steps to the side and gestures for me to walk ahead of him. I feel his eyes on me and bite my lip to stop the smile I know is coming. He likes my dress.
“Where are we going?” I ask after we’re both in the car and he pulls the gear shift into reverse.
The chilly blast of the AC makes me sigh in relief and settle back into my seat. The interior of his car is as glossy black as the outside with luxurious leather seats and wooden accents along the dashboard and interior doors. He has the radio turned down low, but I can hear the base of whatever he was listening to before I came out. It sounds like hip hop. I fight the urge to turn it up, side eyeing him curiously. Does he like hip hop too?
“So tell me,” he starts, pulling out of my condos and onto the busy highway. “What’s your problem with men?”
I scoff. “I don’t know how to answer that. There are so many problems with men.”
“Where did yours start? You get mistreated by an ex boyfriend and swore off men forever?”
My nostrils flare and I exhale. How arrogant.
“As a matter of fact, no. I’m not here to give you my life’s story. I’m here to interview you.”
His grin infuriates me. I feel my nails dig into my palms as I clench my hands into fists. He’s so damn cocky.
“Interviews are dull and boring. It can wait until we get to the restaurant,” he says. I realize he never answered my question.
“Where are we going?”
He shrugs. “You’ll see when we get there.”
“This isn’t a date date. There’s no need for the surprise,” I reply.
“Date date?” he chuckles. “You’re right. It’s just a date, and I have to say again, you look beautiful.” The car slows to a stop at a red light. “And so damn fuckable.”
