have had to listen to these women talk about you like some prized stud while they leer at me, assuming already that I am your latest victim.” I jab my finger into his chest, his hard, unyielding chest. “But it is another for you to stand before me and proclaim it for yourself. I have some dignity, Rhys. And if you think I was just going to fall flat on my back for you, you really don’t know anything about me.” He throws his hands up and takes a step back, backing up against the bed.
“OK, I’m sorry. Let’s start over. Can we start over, please?” He pleads. I take a deep breath and watch him fill his lungs with a deep breath. His face softens and the edge in his stance wavers. I don’t want him to go, and I didn’t want to come across so angry. I take a deep, cleansing breath and smile at him, taking a grape to fill my mouth and still my tongue.
“Fine, let’s start over,” I offer, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.
“Good. I brought snacks. I thought we could get to know one another, Sophie.” His lips caress my name. His eyes are wide and hopeful. “Get friendly.” His crooked smile wins the day, helping me to shake off the last ropes of frustration. Sure, it was a product of the scotch, sleepiness and his intoxicating proximity. His intentions were painfully clear in the way he kissed me outside, like a silly young girl with a crush, he gently dismissed me. Now that I know where we stand why should I not demystify and get friendly with this enigma? I look up at his waiting face, dark lashes framing emerald green eyes, freckles dusted across the bridge of his straight nose. There is warmth in his face that was not evident before now, his grin is eager, no intimidation in his manner. I offer a warm smile and climb to the head of the bed, pulling the comforter up over my legs, clearing space for Rhys and his meticulously arranged platter of nibbles. He offers me a glass of Perrier, kicks off his shoes and lowers himself onto the bed next to me, careful to sit on top of the comforter.
“Are you watching Top Gear?” His voice betrays surprise and awe.
“I forgot the TV was on, you can change it if you like, or turn it off.”
“No, no it’s good, leave it on.” He tilts his head in curiosity and turns back to the TV. “They drive some beautiful cars.” I watch him take a bite from a fig, his lips full and soft. The smallest action, so bewitching, and before I can regain myself and look away he catches me. Slowly, he rolls his tongue along his lower lip, reveling in the sticky drops of nectar from the fig then offers me the succulent fruit. All reason is shattered the moment he wrapped his lips around that damn fruit. Every cell in my body is pulsating, a fire rising in my abdomen. A dull hum fills my head and my pulse quickens, threatening any amount of control I convinced myself that I wielded. His long slender fingers hold the delicate fig, careful not to bruise or damage the tender flesh. I can’t help but wonder if those fingers are always so careful and agile. The thought is rattling. I have to kick this man out of my head. The fog clears from my eyes in time for me to see his crooked, triumphant grin. He knows what he does, there is no question about that. I have to shake him off and look away, denying his offer.
“Why did you leave the bachelor party?” I ask, a seemingly a safe topic to distract myself from his overtly sexual energy and the sting of his earlier rejection.
“It was about to get dirty.” He is very matter of fact.
“I thought the dirty bits were the part men loved the most.” I can’t help but be playful. There is an energy between us that makes it almost impossible for me to hold my tongue, we have a verbal chemistry and my sharp tongue has been in desperate need of a counterpart.
“I prefer a…..hi gher caliber of entertainment.” His eyes hold me in a death grip, refusing to let me go. Raising the remainder of the fig to his mouth, he slowly licks
“OK, I’m sorry. Let’s start over. Can we start over, please?” He pleads. I take a deep breath and watch him fill his lungs with a deep breath. His face softens and the edge in his stance wavers. I don’t want him to go, and I didn’t want to come across so angry. I take a deep, cleansing breath and smile at him, taking a grape to fill my mouth and still my tongue.
“Fine, let’s start over,” I offer, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.
“Good. I brought snacks. I thought we could get to know one another, Sophie.” His lips caress my name. His eyes are wide and hopeful. “Get friendly.” His crooked smile wins the day, helping me to shake off the last ropes of frustration. Sure, it was a product of the scotch, sleepiness and his intoxicating proximity. His intentions were painfully clear in the way he kissed me outside, like a silly young girl with a crush, he gently dismissed me. Now that I know where we stand why should I not demystify and get friendly with this enigma? I look up at his waiting face, dark lashes framing emerald green eyes, freckles dusted across the bridge of his straight nose. There is warmth in his face that was not evident before now, his grin is eager, no intimidation in his manner. I offer a warm smile and climb to the head of the bed, pulling the comforter up over my legs, clearing space for Rhys and his meticulously arranged platter of nibbles. He offers me a glass of Perrier, kicks off his shoes and lowers himself onto the bed next to me, careful to sit on top of the comforter.
“Are you watching Top Gear?” His voice betrays surprise and awe.
“I forgot the TV was on, you can change it if you like, or turn it off.”
“No, no it’s good, leave it on.” He tilts his head in curiosity and turns back to the TV. “They drive some beautiful cars.” I watch him take a bite from a fig, his lips full and soft. The smallest action, so bewitching, and before I can regain myself and look away he catches me. Slowly, he rolls his tongue along his lower lip, reveling in the sticky drops of nectar from the fig then offers me the succulent fruit. All reason is shattered the moment he wrapped his lips around that damn fruit. Every cell in my body is pulsating, a fire rising in my abdomen. A dull hum fills my head and my pulse quickens, threatening any amount of control I convinced myself that I wielded. His long slender fingers hold the delicate fig, careful not to bruise or damage the tender flesh. I can’t help but wonder if those fingers are always so careful and agile. The thought is rattling. I have to kick this man out of my head. The fog clears from my eyes in time for me to see his crooked, triumphant grin. He knows what he does, there is no question about that. I have to shake him off and look away, denying his offer.
“Why did you leave the bachelor party?” I ask, a seemingly a safe topic to distract myself from his overtly sexual energy and the sting of his earlier rejection.
“It was about to get dirty.” He is very matter of fact.
“I thought the dirty bits were the part men loved the most.” I can’t help but be playful. There is an energy between us that makes it almost impossible for me to hold my tongue, we have a verbal chemistry and my sharp tongue has been in desperate need of a counterpart.
“I prefer a…..hi gher caliber of entertainment.” His eyes hold me in a death grip, refusing to let me go. Raising the remainder of the fig to his mouth, he slowly licks
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