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7
Mark
Closing the door, I lay back and rest my head against the wood.
What the hell did I do?
When Jenna told me that Siobhan's family was fussy, with expensive taste and a bold opinion, this isn't what I pictured at all. I came here with the intentions of sweeping her off her feet, filling our time with hot sex and romantic dinners.
I didn't know she actually lived with them. I think I fucked up royally. The thought sparks in my head, causing me to close my eyes and groan.
If looks could kill, I'd be dead. The way her mother looked at me makes my skin crawl. So much instant hate and disgust, and she doesn't even know me from a hole in the wall. They say don't judge a book by its cover, but obviously this woman does the opposite.
And the look on Sia's face was even worse. I thought she was going to throw up. There was so much happiness in her eyes until her mother's voice ruined it all. Then her expression changed, from happy to mortified. The only problem I'm having is figuring out which way it was pointed, at me or at her mother.
My heart tears slightly as I picture her face. The shade of embarrassment came in four colors. I might be reading her all wrong. There's a chance that I misinterpreted our phone call the other night, and all she wants is to be friends.
Despite this harsh reality, I can't ignore what I feel inside for her. She makes me feel things I've never felt before. That's what I'm going on. Not words, but feelings. Feelings that hit so hard and heavy I can't just ignore them. I need to follow them where they take me.
They led me here.
Running both hands over my head, I open my eyes and look around.
The room is so white, it seems sterile, like an operating room. There's a white rug under the bed with dark blue swirls. The bed posts are light wood like the birch trees that salt the forests back home, and the blanket is bleached clean silk. Running my hand over the fabric, I half expect to see dirt streaks from my touch.
The floor is marble, white with gray swirls, and all the furniture is the same colorless shade. There are small pops of color, the blue in the rug, the gray in the tile, a giant flowerpot in the corner filled with soft peach Juliet roses.
A wall of windows creates the far right wall to the bed, giving an amazing view of the city. I can hear all the noise below. The cars, the horns, the sound of people as they move like a herd through the city.
Leaning over, I look down, watching everyone mill about like ants. They all seem to move in one direction, then quickly shift to another. It's strange to see so many people in one place.
Pulling back, I turn around to see my own reflection in the floor length mirror opposite me. I'm out of place in this room. Wearing an old shirt I found in my closet, the nicest pair of jeans I own, and giving in to buy these dumb ass shoes that have a little shine. I'm a bruise on flawless skin, something so ugly on the surface of perfection.
Fuck it. I'm here, and I'm going to make the best of it.
Leaving my suitcase on the floor, I decide to go find Sia. I'm settled in enough, there isn't much else for me to do. Closing the door behind me, I walk down the hall, checking out the fancy sculptures and high end art on the walls.
I don't hear anyone at all. No voices, no one laughing or chatting. This place is huge. My shoes echo off the vaulted ceilings and marble floor as I explore her home. Finally, I hear sounds somewhere in the distance.
Following the sound, I round a corner to find Siobhan in the kitchen. She's got two glasses in front of her, and is about to pour orange juice when she hears me come in.
She lifts her head and looks at me, smiling. I smile back, tucking my hands in my pockets as I lean against the counter.
“I'm sorry I dropped in on you like this. I wasn't thinking. I just had to see you. I know I should have called or something first, but—”
She quickly holds a finger to her lips, silencing me as she darts her eyes around. Reaching out she grabs my shirt and pulls me in for a kiss. It's quick, but it's enough for me to know where she stands.
Pushing me back, Sia puts a safe distance between us. “Don't apologize. I'm really glad you're here.” Pouring some vodka in the juice, she stirs it lightly and hands me a glass. Raising it up, we knock glasses. “I think a screwdriver is warranted for this occasion.” Smirking from behind her glass, she takes a long sip.
“I couldn't agree more.”
“So, you think you're too tired from the flight to do a little sightseeing?” Winking, her smile brightens. She nibbles on her bottom lip, tugging on it gently.
“I'm definitely not too tired for anything.”
I want to touch her so badly. Sneak over to her, kiss her neck softly, run my hands through her hair, and give it a good tug. Except, I can't. The way her eyes keep shifting around cautiously tells me someone could pop in at any moment. The slight danger is turning me on. The thought of getting caught, the idea of doing something that we're not supposed to is making my cock throb.
“So,” I say, “I can see where you get your love of art from.” Pointing to a picture hanging on the wall, I give her another flirty smile.
