Текст книги "Shut In"
Автор книги: Cee Smith
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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 7 страниц)
That intense moment was the only one we shared, and soon the end credits were rolling across the screen. I wasn’t ready for the night to end, but the draw of his body was too intense to stay out in the living room. Any longer and I wasn’t sure what I was capable of. The temptation was too strong, and I felt my will weakening with every hour that my body felt him near.
“Here, I’m going to get you some pillows and blankets,” I said, unfolding myself and rising to my feet. His body stilled, and he was unusually quiet as he watched me leave the room. I returned with more blankets and pillows than one person could possibly need, and as expected, he piped up as soon as he saw me, blankets in hand.
“You know it’s hot as shit, right? A simple sheet would have sufficed.”
“I thought it was nice to give you options. A simple thank-you would suffice,” I replied mockingly as I dumped the bundle on the opposite side of the couch. He worked through the pile, pulling out a couple sheets and the pillow that rested on top and shifted what was left to the other side of the couch. I watched as he set his pillow in place and worked the sheet in his hands. He gripped the edge, his arms smooth and fast as he shook the sheet open. He tucked the sheets into the crevices of the couch, like one would do a bed, and then proceeded to take off his shirt.
“What are you doing?” I yelled, shocked. It wasn’t until the words left my throat that I realized how hysterical I sounded, shouting at him about exposing something I had not only seen, but touched, licked, and kissed. My legs squished together, and the soft hum that had been building since the movie started was now a raging pulse egged on by tightly clenched thighs. Joel stopped lifting the hem of his shirt. With a movie star smile showing a brief glimpse of his perfectly aligned white teeth, he said, “Tell you what, I’ll keep my underwear on if you don’t freak out every time you see me without a shirt on.”
“You would be keeping your underwear on anyway.”
“Not usually. I find underwear constricting while I sleep,” he said as he proceeded lifting his shirt. I didn’t say anything else. I wanted to stay and watch his muscles yawn as if he’d spent the whole day in slumber and they were just now waking up, but I didn’t. I was satisfied enough by the brief glimpse of skin above the waistband of his briefs. Memorizing how the muscles of his abs faded to a smooth expanse of skin that angled into a hard V before dropping into depths hidden by his underwear.
Making my way to the bedroom, I yelled, “Goodnight.” I briefly paused at the door, wondering what I should do: open or closed? Usually I slept with the door closed, creating another barrier for possible intruders (I watched a lot of movies), but closing Joel off in the other room felt rude and distancing. It wasn’t exactly an invitation, leaving my door open, but it also wasn’t closing a door—literally and figuratively.
I danced around the darkness of the room, stumbling for the edge of the bed to use as a guide, leading me to the left side of the bed. My hand padded across the rumpled sheets until my left legs bumped the end table alerting me that I’d reached the headboard. Climbing atop the bed, I settled into the soft mattress, pulling the thin sheet up to my neck.
Sleep didn’t come easy—thoughts of the night before haunted me (more like the things I didn’t remember were haunting me). I shifted back and forth across the mattress like a dog looking for the just-right angle to lie down, except there wasn’t one, and the smell of him still lingered on the sheets, making it harder to claim peace.
After what felt like hours and after finally giving in to the urge to pull the pillow, drenched in his scent, tight against my chest, I drifted off into a fitful sleep that did nothing more for my tired mind than staying awake would. At least if I stayed awake I might have been able to get some work done so I wasn’t completely behind when everyone reemerged post-storm.
Chapter Four
“Good morning,” I grumbled, dragging my heavy limbs to the kitchen for my much-needed hit of caffeine. Coffee, for me, was like oil to the tin man—worthy of a song and dance with just a few sips. Propped up by the pillows I’d given him last night, Joel sat on the couch watching me as I passed the opening of the dining room.
I made to turn on the kitchen light, but when I flipped the switch, nothing happened.
“Ugh.”
I flicked the switch up and down rapidly as if that would cue up the energy needed to get the lights working, but still nothing happened. The room was cast in shadows. Luckily, my eyes still clung to the darkness of sleep, allowing me to make out the space clearly, so I didn’t have to have Joel help me with lighting a candle.
The couch creaked and minutes later Joel stood just inside the doorway—my whole body aware of his nearness despite the coma-like state I was in. I tried to ignore the way his body absorbed the blackness of the room, molding it around those delectable abs and what my eyes registered as a bit of a bulge a bit lower.
Coffee. Focus on coffee.
“I take it the electricity is out, seeing as how you’re in here in the dark?” He folded his arms across his chest, seemingly content to just watch me as I moved about.
“That or the circuit breaker blew, but I think it’s safe to say the electricity is out. How did you sleep?” I asked as I grabbed the coffee grounds from the pantry while simultaneously trying to keep my thoughts from straying back to that bulge.
“Ah¸ you know, not too bad. What about you? It sounded like sleep didn’t come easy.”
“Ah, yeah. I think it was the heat. Sometimes it’s hard for me to fall asleep. Look, do you know how to make coffee without a coffee maker? I need my cup. I don’t think you want to see me without my fuel.”
“Sure.” He moved to retrieve a small pot from the cabinet to the left of the stove. “You should probably try weaning yourself off this habit though.”
He took down a mug and filled it with water before dumping it in the pot and setting it on the burner. It was too early to start in on an argument about coffee being a necessity for me, so I just watched him, paying special attention to the process so he wouldn’t have to do it for me again.
I stood quietly to his right as he went about making my cup of coffee. I found myself paying more attention to the way his shoulders tensed and stomach clenched than how many spoonfuls he dumped and the way he stirred. I’m sure I can figure it out, I thought, as I allowed myself the guilty pleasure of watching him undeterred.
“So…” I didn’t know what I wanted to say. I was just looking for something, anything to fill the silence that descended. Only the sound of boiling water amplified in those few moments in which I tried to organize my thoughts clearly enough to remember how to act around him. I didn’t know what frazzled my thoughts more—the fact that I slept with a stranger that I was now stuck with, or that I found myself wanting to sleep with him again.
“Here.”
He filtered the coffee from the grounds, pouring the black liquid into the same mug he used to measure the water, and dropped the pot back on the burner before handing me my fresh cup of coffee. I poured a splash of soy milk in the cup and lifted the mug beneath my nose, taking a lungful of the fresh aroma. The strong scent seemed to relax every pent-up muscle in my body, dissolving my tangled thoughts. When I opened my eyes to take a small sip, I saw Joel’s face over the rim of the cup, watching my movements like a lion tracking a gazelle. A look I was becoming all too used to.
“You can take a seat at the table, and I’ll get us a couple plates of muffins,” he said as he scratched lazily across his chest, drawing my attention to the light smattering of hair that swayed with each stroke of his fingers. The hair trailed down the center of his abs and disappeared beneath his briefs, and I wanted nothing more than to follow the path with my fingers to see if the hair danced the same beneath my touch. His cock twitched, and it was that movement that alerted me to the place where my eyes had trailed to, once again. Shocked by my own obvious lack of control, I nearly spilled my coffee trying to regain composure.
When he turned to get our plates, I swore I saw a quirk in his lip as if he’d caught my wandering eyes and was amused by my attraction to him. Honestly, I didn’t know what the big deal was. He knew I was obviously attracted to him, otherwise we wouldn’t be in the mess we were in.
My seat at the table was the best spot in the dining room, with a perfect view of the living room to the right and the hallway leading to the bedrooms on my left. I sat smack-dab in the center of the house with a view of every direction. Except the one view I hadn’t anticipated was seeing Joel walk in the room carrying two dainty bread plates with blueberry muffins, clad in only his underwear. It was quite the juxtaposition. Just like it was hard to picture him cooking and fitting a sheet to the couch, seeing him carrying these little plates seemed out of place.
He set the plates down before taking the seat to my left. The dining room was small. The back of my chair sat pressed against the wall at my back, leaving a couple inches between me and the table. The other three chairs left just as little space. Joel definitely wouldn’t be able to sit there without the slab of wood cutting into his abs. A view I didn’t mind having with breakfast—those abs served up like something else for my mouth to feast on.
I watched Joel break apart the muffin like a kid peeling off the crust of a sandwich—his thick fingers digging right to the center of the pastry.
“Is there something wrong with the outside?”
“No, it’s just softer on the inside,” he replied, picking off bits of the muffin between his thumb and forefinger before placing them on his tongue. His mouth closed around those fingers, subsequently licking off every crumb that had latched on. Typically, I was repulsed by watching people eat, but something was so erotic about watching the way those fingers disappeared between those full lips that were as succulent as freshly picked fruit bursting on your tongue, showering your mouth with the essence of the sun. I decided before I’d even tasted those muffins that they were the best thing I’d ever baked, ever made.
I liked the way he looked at my table, in my house, doing something as simple as picking at a muffin. He belonged there, as if that were just an ordinary day plucked from our lives. I didn’t let myself think about that long enough to become unsettled by how comfortable he seemed to fit into my home. Instead, I began picking at my muffin, too.
“What would you like to do today?” he asked me, still fumbling with the remaining bits of muffin that peppered his plate.
“Well, let’s see here. We can’t go outside, we don’t have any electricity, and it’s dark. Hmm, doesn’t seem like we have a lot of options.”
“No, but I’m sure I could think of some things to keep us busy.”
“I’m sure you could, but I think I’ll pass for now. I think I’ll do some yoga and then take a shower, what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you work out?”
The pieces of muffin between my fingers were milled to dust as I tried to contain the heat emanating from between my legs at all the ways we could keep busy. He didn’t immediately answer, but I could feel him watching me, waiting for my eyes to meet his, to point out the obvious. Joel made me feel things that I not only didn’t anticipate, but wasn’t exactly welcome in my life—where work was number one. I didn’t have time for distractions, didn’t want to open myself up to the possibility of this becoming anything more.
Repeat sex leads to relationships. Well it did as far as I knew.
After a beat, I looked up to find him watching me with that devilish smile lighting up his face. The one that didn’t help with that ember that was morphing into a roaring inferno inside me. It seemed to be a super power of his.
“Why, Blaire, if I didn’t know any better, I would think that was a pickup line.”
I plucked a piece off my muffin and threw it at him. He feigned mock anger, throwing his hand up to divert the crumb’s trajectory. It bounced off his palm and fell somewhere beyond where he was sitting. He looked around the floor before turning back to me.
“Hey, we can’t waste our valuable resources. You should be treating those crumbs like gold—every ounce counts, dammit.”
“Says the man who refuses to eat the outside of the muffin.”
“Maybe I was saving those for dire times.”
“Whatever,” I said, rising from the table. I collected both of our plates and deposited them in the kitchen sink. Joel was still sitting in the dining room chair when I was making my way to the office to do my yoga.
I made it to the room, pulling my mat from the office closet and set it down by the wall closest to the door before getting in position. Damn, he never answered my question. It was hard to clear my mind when every time I closed my eyes I kept imagining Joel’s shirt dripping wet with sweat, smelling his natural manly scent mixed with the saltiness that would make my mouth water.
My concentration was stretched beyond its limit when the shower kicked on. I imagined those strong hands rubbing lazily across his pecs and down his chest. His hand dipping between those legs, soaping up a place that made me salivate when I saw him in nothing but those little briefs that did almost nothing to conceal him.
When I moved to change positions, I loosened those thoughts, questioning what it would feel like to touch him. I mostly did a good job, until the shower turned off and I could hear him rustling around. Hopefully he was putting some clothes on. The sound of his feet padding across the floor marked the end of my yoga session, and I put everything back feeling even tenser than I was before.
I hopped in the shower, hoping to wash away all thoughts of Joel. Warm water pelted down on my head, and I tipped my neck back letting it rush over me. My senses were hyper-aware of everything. Every pass of my hands across my skin seemed to feel like a brush of electricity, sending little shocks through my system that made goosebumps prickle despite the heat bathing me. I tried focusing on the soap that slid between my palms creating a lather so thick it covered my hands like gloves. The soap slipped, dropping against the shower floor with a loud thud. A sound that couldn’t mask the very distinct creak of the bathroom door being opened.
I practically fell to the bottom of the tub in a haste to cover myself. I grabbed the clear shower curtain, pulling it tight against my body, while simultaneously trying to contort my limbs in a way to hide everything one would deem private.
“What the fuck?” I yelled at Joel who casually walked in as if he didn’t hear the shower running or have the common sense to know that you don’t barge in on people without knocking. He just walked in unfazed by the image of me bent over at the waist, ass in the air trying to retrieve that damn bar of soap.
His booming laughter only contributed to my compounding anger at his lack of respect for my personal boundaries. Apparently, he lacked common sense where personal space was concerned. Is this what it’s going to be like for the next two weeks? If so, I wasn’t sure both of us would make it out of there alive. It seemed we could benefit from a revisit of those rules.
“It’s not funny,” I said, cutting into his laughter.
“Yeah, it kinda is.”
He continued laughing like it were some gag reel and I was meant to relive my mortification with every fresh wave of laughter that erupted from his lips. Is he laughing at the picture of me curled up in the shower curtain, or is he actually laughing at me? “I’ve already seen everything there is to see, sweet cheeks. I’ve had a trial run of your goods. No need to be modest now.”
“What do you want? Get out!”
“All right, all right. Don’t have a coronary. I thought I forgot something in here.” He glanced around, but didn’t really seem to be looking for anything in particular. It was almost like he’d faked looking, and then quickly said, “Oh, guess it’s not here.”
“Great. Now, get out.”
He flashed me one of his panty-melting smiles and shut the door. I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and my fist unclenched the balled up shower curtain that was now embedded with little indentations of my nails. I picked up the bar of soap and quickly rushed through the motions of washing up, ignoring the feel of my hands as they passed across my quivering flesh.
First order of business when I exited the shower? I locked the door.
I hovered there, just beside the door, body wrapped in a towel, trying to make out a hint of sound from the other side, preparing myself for any more surprises Joel had up his sleeve. After a few minutes, when I realized I was in the clear, I dried off and got ready. I swiped the condensation from the mirror, uncomfortably aware of the girl who stared back at me.
I looked at my face a little closer, somehow feeling taunted by the image that looked back at me. My hair, still limp with water, hung past my shoulders in a mousy brown color I always thought made me look a bit frumpy. I ran my comb through it, thinking about the highlights I’d been contemplating getting. Why had I been putting it off? Now, I was stuck with a gorgeous man in my house looking like Pollyanna from the country farm. I spent a couple more minutes passing over all of the things that made me look so ordinary. There wasn’t anything I could do about my hair, but I could shape up my eyebrows and wax my mustache. It wouldn’t hurt to do a little upkeep. Especially now that I have a little free time on my hands.
In the time it took me to finish getting ready with the additional primping I decided to do, I almost expected Joel to try to attempt round two of barging in on me, but when I left the bathroom, I noticed he was back to sitting on the couch. This time appropriately dressed.
Candlelight flooded the room—bundles of wavering flames glowed in the depths, throwing shadows of Joel’s face across the walls. I couldn’t see those hypnotic emerald orbs, but I felt them. The shadows revealed how he watched me, tracing my faltered steps as I drew nearer. I wondered what he saw. Could he tell I freshened up with him in mind? A blush crept up my neck at the thought of him imagining me naked. He saw everything. And we weren’t both naked or drunk. Was he regretting being stuck here with Sarah Simpleton? I imagined he was used to landing nice, polished, expensive-looking women who didn’t leave the house without a fresh waxing and perfect hair and makeup. It was enough to make the most confident woman double-check her compact.
“At least you’re smart enough to put some clothes on,” I mumbled, taking a seat on the opposite side of the couch. It still felt too close, but I didn’t want him to think I was purposely avoiding him because of the bathroom situation. I dealt with all kinds of people at the law firm. I could handle a hot man and good sex. No problem.
“I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t. I wasn’t able to see much in there.”
“Yeah, about that. Do we need to go over simple manners while you’re here? I thought we established some ground rules, but I didn’t think I would have to cover the basics.”
“It was just a little nudity. Besides, it was an accident.”
“Nothing about that looked like an accident. You just barged in. Do you even know what you thought you left in there?”
His eyes bounced across the floor as if something would reveal itself—an answer that would offer itself up to my inquiry.
“My watch,” he said, his eyes finally landing on his wrist. I narrowed my eyes at him, and his eyebrows lifted innocently. I focused my attention on the large face and chunky gold band wrapped around his thick wrist. A watch I hadn’t noticed up until then, but was the equivalent of a five-carat diamond on a woman’s finger—it was kind of hard to miss. My eyes didn’t stay on the watch long, instead following the dusting of hair across smooth cream skin, up forearms thick-slabbed and pulsing with every breath he inhaled. Those arms could hold me up nicely. I wondered if I took advantage of those arms while I was with him. Did I notice them? Maybe not like I was noticing now because we obviously had other things on our minds at the time, but now that I saw them, I wanted to lick a trail from fingers to shoulder, and feel his muscles strain against my tongue.
“I’m going to try to get some work done. I’ll be in my office if you need me,” I said with rushed words before escaping the room.
