of her
long legs, capped by her tight skirt that displayed her white panties
and delicious behind. Frozen in admiration, thinking slowly from the
alcohol, he stuttered. “I guess it's just that, um, I don't
know...”
“What!”
She demanded, hands tightening around her glass. The whiskey stain on
her shirt was making the outline of her nipples visible, and Paul
swallowed. Standing slowly, he took his whiskey and sipped it, then
gave it a swig, trying to think of a way out of this. Finally, he
turned his gaze back to Brandy in frustrated defeat.
“Fine.
I just like you, is all.”
Stunned,
she lifted her brows and stared. “You...like me?”
“Yes!”
He cried, moving to try and slip around her in the tight quarters.
His chest pressed into her shoulder, and she turned to try and let
him pass, but only ended up unbalancing the two of them. In shock, he
spilled more drink, but grabbed for her to steady her stumble. In
that moment, he gripped not her arm, but her lower back. Arm
encircling, he held her close while she gasped.
Baffled,
off guard, the soccer player tensed. Grasping her container, she
stared into his face which reflected her level of surprise. “Paul,
I, um...”
She
smelled like spices and strawberries, he noticed, before becoming too
aware of how she felt in his arms. Carefully, he let her go, and
stepped back into the living room. “Sorry, sorry, really pretend I didn't say anything dumb just now, ok?”
In
a swift motion, she downed the contents of her glass and slammed it
onto the counter, her eyes lighting in an even angrier glow than
before. “You LIKE me, Paul? You like me, and you think I didn't
know that?”
The
young man frowned, unsure how to handle this reaction. He felt a
twinge of shame, but buried it with his own rush of irritation. “If
you knew, why did you ask?”
“I...”
Doubt flickered on her face, something Paul caught and found curious.
Chewing on the bottom of her lush lower lip, she found the floor
suddenly very interesting. “I don't know. No reason, probably.
Forget it.”
Laughing
with a hint of sarcasm, he took a step towards her where she stood in
the kitchen entrance. “Oh, no, that's not fair. You got me to
respond, you can't cop out.”
Brandy's
cheeks were heated like crimson fire, and Paul noted this all too
well. Standing a bit straighter, he moved once more, until he was
close enough to smell the whiskey on her shirt. His voice was low,
rolling like soft thunder.
“You
like me too, don't you?”
She
snapped her head back, hair flipping, hands lifted as if to protect
herself from some onslaught. “What! No, that's...”
But
he was sure, now, and whether it was fueled by alcohol or some
strange sense of revenge for being cornered earlier, he pressed
himself closer; Causing her to step back. “You do, you DO like
me. You just never said anything... Why?” He cocked his head,
following her retreat until she bumped into the counter with no where
to go. Her eyes flashed with trepidation, her chest raised rapidly
with her breathing. “Tell me what you were worried about.”
“It's...”
Her voice was hushed, breathy. For a moment, she darted her gray eyes
around the tiny kitchen, as if seeking some answer, or an escape.
Inevitably, she dropped her gaze back to Paul, taking in the wild
tinge to his own light orbs. Not for the first time, she noted the
flecks of gold in his eyes. “I was nervous.”
“What?”
He blinked, clearly not expecting this. “Nervous of what?”
“Earlier,”
she mumbled, fixing her attention on the wall to her left
uncomfortably. Her arms folded, shifting her round breasts into an
even more prominent position. “I was planning to get drunk with
you tonight, and just sort of hook up and let it happen, you know?”
Turning her head, she gave him a questioning glance. “But then
you wouldn't shut up about all that anal stuff, and so I got scared.”
At
first, he said nothing. He watched her face, studied the look in
long legs, capped by her tight skirt that displayed her white panties
and delicious behind. Frozen in admiration, thinking slowly from the
alcohol, he stuttered. “I guess it's just that, um, I don't
know...”
“What!”
She demanded, hands tightening around her glass. The whiskey stain on
her shirt was making the outline of her nipples visible, and Paul
swallowed. Standing slowly, he took his whiskey and sipped it, then
gave it a swig, trying to think of a way out of this. Finally, he
turned his gaze back to Brandy in frustrated defeat.
“Fine.
I just like you, is all.”
Stunned,
she lifted her brows and stared. “You...like me?”
“Yes!”
He cried, moving to try and slip around her in the tight quarters.
His chest pressed into her shoulder, and she turned to try and let
him pass, but only ended up unbalancing the two of them. In shock, he
spilled more drink, but grabbed for her to steady her stumble. In
that moment, he gripped not her arm, but her lower back. Arm
encircling, he held her close while she gasped.
Baffled,
off guard, the soccer player tensed. Grasping her container, she
stared into his face which reflected her level of surprise. “Paul,
I, um...”
She
smelled like spices and strawberries, he noticed, before becoming too
aware of how she felt in his arms. Carefully, he let her go, and
stepped back into the living room. “Sorry, sorry, really pretend I didn't say anything dumb just now, ok?”
In
a swift motion, she downed the contents of her glass and slammed it
onto the counter, her eyes lighting in an even angrier glow than
before. “You LIKE me, Paul? You like me, and you think I didn't
know that?”
The
young man frowned, unsure how to handle this reaction. He felt a
twinge of shame, but buried it with his own rush of irritation. “If
you knew, why did you ask?”
“I...”
Doubt flickered on her face, something Paul caught and found curious.
Chewing on the bottom of her lush lower lip, she found the floor
suddenly very interesting. “I don't know. No reason, probably.
Forget it.”
Laughing
with a hint of sarcasm, he took a step towards her where she stood in
the kitchen entrance. “Oh, no, that's not fair. You got me to
respond, you can't cop out.”
Brandy's
cheeks were heated like crimson fire, and Paul noted this all too
well. Standing a bit straighter, he moved once more, until he was
close enough to smell the whiskey on her shirt. His voice was low,
rolling like soft thunder.
“You
like me too, don't you?”
She
snapped her head back, hair flipping, hands lifted as if to protect
herself from some onslaught. “What! No, that's...”
But
he was sure, now, and whether it was fueled by alcohol or some
strange sense of revenge for being cornered earlier, he pressed
himself closer; Causing her to step back. “You do, you DO like
me. You just never said anything... Why?” He cocked his head,
following her retreat until she bumped into the counter with no where
to go. Her eyes flashed with trepidation, her chest raised rapidly
with her breathing. “Tell me what you were worried about.”
“It's...”
Her voice was hushed, breathy. For a moment, she darted her gray eyes
around the tiny kitchen, as if seeking some answer, or an escape.
Inevitably, she dropped her gaze back to Paul, taking in the wild
tinge to his own light orbs. Not for the first time, she noted the
flecks of gold in his eyes. “I was nervous.”
“What?”
He blinked, clearly not expecting this. “Nervous of what?”
“Earlier,”
she mumbled, fixing her attention on the wall to her left
uncomfortably. Her arms folded, shifting her round breasts into an
even more prominent position. “I was planning to get drunk with
you tonight, and just sort of hook up and let it happen, you know?”
Turning her head, she gave him a questioning glance. “But then
you wouldn't shut up about all that anal stuff, and so I got scared.”
At
first, he said nothing. He watched her face, studied the look in
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