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Adrian turns as if he can feel me staring at him. “Nice pool,” he says.
Nodding, I think about how little we got to use it over the summer. Noelle has gotten increasingly busy, especially since this is her last year of high school. What with her preparing for her school's winter recital and the volunteer obligations, I see her less and less these days.
Adrian finishes measuring the living room and points down the hallway. “Should I follow you into the bedroom?”
“Excuse me?” I ask, wishing I had something to fan myself with.
“You said you wanted to do the entire house. I assume that means the bedrooms too?” He lifts an eyebrow waiting for me to answer.
“O-Oh,” I stammer, “yes.” I walk down the hallway and scan my bedroom for anything out of place.
Adrian follows close behind and stands in the middle of my bedroom, the view jarring. I watch as he looks around assessing my bedroom while he takes measurements, clearly trying to figure me out.
“You don’t like me in your bedroom?” he asks, using the velvety tone that pulls me under and makes me forget important things. He watches me closely, paying attention to my reaction to his question.
“I don’t mind,” I reply, carefully choosing my words.
Satisfied, he walks into my closet making a low whistle while I follow behind him, stopping at the entrance. Organized with shelves and an island in the middle where I keep my jewelry and other intimate items, the closet, like the rest of the house, is a bit much, especially just for me. A quarter of it is filled with shoes, all colors and styles, mostly for work or formal functions.
One section holds designer dresses I’ve worn to past Christmas parties and other work events. Entering further into the closet, I watch as he moves to the section where I keep all my casual clothes. Noelle and I have a thing for buying silly t-shirts from every place we’ve visited, and I’ve kept all of my vintage concert t-shirts from when I was younger. His hand lingers on theAerosmithshirt I wore to theTap Roomthat night, but then picks up a pair of gold high heels with a strap that goes around the ankles, looking at me as if he’s imagining me in them.
“Next time, you should wear these,” he says, and the closer he moves towards me, the more I step back.
“You’re very presumptuous,” I say, grabbing the shoes and placing them back on the shelf.
“Past experience would say the odds are in my favor,” he winks, towering over me as my body reacts in ways I can’t control. He’s very perceptive, and his eyes on me aren’t just for admiring, they’re assessing.“Do I make you nervous, Lake?” His question makes my cheeks heat.
“No,” I say too quickly.
He steps a little closer, placing his boot between my feet, effectively wedging his leg between my thighs. “Then why are you trembling?” He runs a finger across my shoulder, playing with the strap of my tank top, and I like the gentle way he handles me.
“There are a lot of reasons why I’m trembling, but none of them are because I’m nervous,” I challenge, looking him right in the eye.
Years of working in Corporate America, especially with men who think they can take advantage of a woman, has toughened me. I don’t intimidate easily, no matter how many orgasms he’s given me.
His face is inches from mine and the scent of his cologne fills my closet. Watching as he licks his lips, they inch towards mine like the pull of a magnet. His hand wraps around the back of my head while his thumb holds me in place, pressing into my cheek. My heart thunders in my chest and the ache between my legs increases.
“Two weeks, Lake,” he groans. “You kept me waiting two weeks.” Without hesitation, he crashes his mouth to mine, gathering my hair in his fist, forcing my head back. I kiss him back, parting my lips and letting his tongue slip inside.
When he pulls my leg up and slips his hand under my shorts to cup my ass, dangerously close to the edge of my panties, my brain threatens to short-circuit.
15
BEAUTIFUL LIES
House Fire by Tyler Childers
Not here. The words invade my brain.
Not in the room that is just across the hall from where my daughter sleeps. Placing my hand to his chest, it effectively causes him to release me even though he looks like he doesn’t want to.
Resting his forehead against mine, he breathes heavily before pushing himself away, showing great restraint.
“Not here,” I tell him breathlessly.
Pushing back the pieces of my tousled hair, I try to regain my composure.
He doesn’t look like he agrees with it, but he moves away from me anyway, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Feeling like I’ve drawn a box around myself for the past seventeen years, I forgot it was even there – until him. Adrian makes me want to cut ties with this self-imposed prison I’ve locked myself into. It’s a dangerous thought, but it makes me feel alive.
