Authors: Barbie Bohrman
Yes you will.
No I won’t.
Yes you will.
“No, I won’t!”
“Did you say something?” Alex asks, stepping into the hallway just a few feet away from me.
“Nope, I’m coming,” I lie, quickly recovering and striding with fake confidence right past him.
You bet your ass you will. In more ways than one.
I
’m not used to being this anxious. Men in general don’t usually make me nervous. Dating has always been a natural progression kind of thing for me. Perhaps it’s from growing up outnumbered in the male department that helped shape this part of me—two brothers and my dad, versus my mom and me. However I got to be so comfortable around the guys has been a blessing in the past. I’ve been able to hold a conversation and be charming and funny without a second thought. So this thing with Alex that I’m feeling is something entirely foreign to me.
Let me paint a picture for you.
He’s sitting to my left at the kitchen island. Open Chinese food cartons are lined up in front of us, and we’re eating straight out of them. When we decided that, I have no idea because I was too busy scheming in my head how I was going to get out of here unscathed. For once, I thank the Lord above that my hair can act as a veil and covers the side of my face that he’s currently boring holes into with his eyes. On top of all of that, I’m having the worst time with these goddamn chopsticks, because guess what, I grew up eating with a freaking fork and spoon.
“Are you going to ignore me the rest of the night?” Alex asks while reaching over to grab an open carton.
I manage to get some rice onto my chopsticks, and it slides right off just as he’s sitting back down. “Who, me?”
“Yes, you,” he says.
I’m about
this close
to stabbing myself in the eye with these things, so I chuck them into the carton and put it down on the countertop. Under my breath, I let loose a couple of curse words in frustration that cause him to laugh. Oh, this is funny, is it? Actually, I’m sure he thinks all of this is rather amusing, judging by the smirk on his face and relaxed demeanor that I can see from the corner of my eye.
“I’m so glad you find all of this funny,” I say.
“I wouldn’t say funny so much as fun watching you get all frustrated because you’re nervous. To be honest, it’s quite endearing,” he says.
No better time than the present to get it all out in the open between us. Because this, whatever the hell
this
is, can’t go any farther than a kiss.
I pivot in my seat, and he puts down his chopsticks to give me his undivided attention.
“Alex, this is a very bad idea.”
I know, so original, but it’s sweet, short, and to the point.
He puts his carton on the countertop and turns so that he’s facing me with a confused look on his face. When he opens his mouth to say something, which I know will be something along the lines of “You’re wrong,” or, “This is a very good idea,” I raise my hand to get him to stop before he even starts.
“God knows we’ve been flirting and dancing around each other for months toward something, and by
something
, obviously I mean fucking each other’s brains out. And as much as I’m dying of curiosity, I can’t go there with you because I don’t want it to ruin our friendship. Secondly, there’s that little thing you’ve got going with Marisa. Your niece did tell me that she’s not your girlfriend or anything, and that’s great news. Because I have to be honest, as your friend, she is so not your type, and you could do a hell of a lot better. But regardless of all that,
she
clearly thinks there
is
something other than friendship between the two of you, and I don’t want to be the catalyst for having her figure out that there isn’t. Thirdly, I don’t really know much about you other than what you let me see. I mean, today is the very first time I’ve gotten any kind of glimpse into outside-of-work Alex. Don’t get me wrong, at-work Alex is a real turn-on, and so is outside-of-work Alex for that matter, but that’s beside the point. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t really know enough about you to jump into bed with you.”
He looks completely unfazed by my mini rant. If anything, he looks even more amused by everything that came flying out of my mouth.
“Is that all of it?” he asks.
“You know what,” I add, a little irritated by his casual response, “no, it’s not all of it. I forgot to mention how you once tried to hook up with my best friend. Without going into details of how strange it is to make out with someone who has made out with my best friend—yeah, she tells me
everything
—I don’t want to be anyone’s sloppy seconds.”
After that, he doesn’t say a peep. Instead, he sits there and stares rather unaffected by the myriad of reasons I’ve just supplied him. Beyond gratified at leaving him speechless for a change, I take the opportunity to start gathering my things and stand up to leave.
“Thank you for dinner, and I’ll be in touch with you and your niece later this week with details about the party.”
“And where do you think you’re going? Shouldn’t I get a chance to respond after your little speech?” he asks.
Sighing in defeat, because I would feel like a real piece of crap if I didn’t let him speak, I wave dramatically in his direction, letting him know to go ahead with his side of the story. Then he smiles, a languid smile as if he’s been waiting for his chance all along. I can’t lie; I’m curious. But you know what they say about curiosity
—
it kills stupid-ass cats every day of the week and twice on Sunday.
“Shall I start at the beginning?”
“Sure,” I offer. “By all means.”
Alex crosses his arms and leans back in his chair without a care in the world. “As much as I do love your rather vivid description of ‘fucking each other’s brains out,’ which there is no doubt in my mind would indeed be the case, your excuse of not wanting to ruin our friendship is ridiculous. Who says we can’t stay friends?”
“Are you asking me to be your fuck buddy?” I ask, wide-eyed and totally thrown off by his question.
Choking on his words, he says, “No! Jesus Christ, how did you get that from what I just said?”
Before I can answer, he continues. “You know what, don’t answer that. Let’s move on to Marisa instead. She is not, nor has she ever been, my girlfriend. Does she think she is? I have no idea, and honestly I couldn’t care less if she does. I take her out every so often as a favor to my parents for reasons I’d rather not get into right now.”
“So you’re saying that if by some miracle we started dating, you’re still planning on fulfilling this mysterious favor and taking her out occasionally? Because I’m not cool with that, like at all. I don’t share, Alex.”
His full-wattage smile garners an appreciative tingle from my body that I’m almost ashamed to admit. I said
almost
, dammit. I’m still not on board with this whole thing, so my body is entitled to feel all kinds of tingles that he doesn’t have to know about.
“I don’t share either, Julia. Not that you would know that about me since that’s part of, what did you call it, outside-of-work Alex?”
“It’s true though. What do I know about you other than what I’ve seen here today?”
“That’s something that can easily be remedied, so stop hiding behind that excuse. Moving on. Sabrina.”
The name hangs in the air between us because I know everything about what transpired between them, from the making out to the almost tit-grabbing. I wasn’t lying when I told him that she tells me everything. She told me every single gory detail. At the time, I was living vicariously through her because I’d always had a thing for him, but I never said jack shit about it to Sabrina. And don’t get too excited about me saying I’ve always had a thing for him. Because if you saw this man, you’d want to be all over him like a cheap suit too.
“Sabrina and I are friends, that’s it and you know it. I can’t lie and tell you that at one point I wasn’t attracted to her. I was. She’s a beautiful woman, but that was a long time ago.”
At that point, he stands up from his stool and starts to take a couple of steps toward me. What the fuck am I doing? If he takes one more step … dammit, it’s too late. He’s standing right in front of me now, and I did nothing to move out of his way. I suck.
“Since we’re being so honest with each other,” he notes while taking his index finger and hooking it under my purse strap. He slides it off my shoulder and hangs it on the back of the stool. “There are some things maybe you should know because I couldn’t bear it if you continued to labor under a misapprehension. First of all, why don’t you ask
me
how long I’ve wanted you? Better yet, ask me when was the exact moment I knew I had to have you.”
He brings his hands up to cup my face and tilts my chin up so that I’m forced to look into his eyes, which are giving nothing away at the moment.
“I don’t want to know,” I answer him.
“Yes you do, and don’t lie to me again,” he says in a rough, low voice that does all sorts of things to me. He lowers his head so that his mouth grazes my ear, and the little slut that I am moves a hair to the side to give him better access. “If you ever lie to me again, I’m going to bend you over my knee and spank you raw. Do you understand?”
With almost a whimper, I muster a weak nod because in my mind I’m already thinking of ways that I can lie so that he can carry out his little threat.
“That’s much better. Now, the last thing on your list was … I can’t remember,” he says playfully. “Care to remind me?”
“I don’t want to be sloppy seconds.”
“You’re not and could
never
be sloppy seconds to anyone. Plus, who said it would even be sloppy?”
He’s got me so wound up and a far cry from a few minutes ago when I was about to bolt out the door. I bring my hands up to hold on to his wrists when he starts to trail his lips lazily across my cheek before reaching my mouth. What little resolve I was holding on to is dissolving as if I were standing in a vat of quicksand.
“So what’s it going to be, Julia?” he asks seductively with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t know,” I rasp defiantly. A total lie. I know that I want him to fuck me so hard that my eyes roll into the back of my head and I can’t walk straight for days.
“What did I tell you about lying to me? Or would you like a demonstration?”
God, yes! I would
kill
for a demonstration. But before I get an opportunity to test out Ass Smacking 101, he takes a couple of quick steps forward, and my back comes in contact with the wall. I don’t have time to contemplate my next move, I don’t even have time to blink, because he’s on me like white on rice.
This time … this kiss … it’s as if he’s marking me, making me his. While our tongues are dueling for supreme ruler of the French kiss universe, he confines my movements by pressing up against me so that I can feel every ripple on his lean, muscular frame. His hands roam from my face to trail down my arms until his fingers roughly grip my waist. When I feel the hard length of him at my hip, well, all sense of decorum flies out the window. My hands weave themselves into his hair and hold on for dear life as I try to get the bottom half of my body at a better angle to rub up against it.
Alex’s hands skim the sides of my hips before sliding over my ass and taking control of my body’s movements. He pushes me against his erection to help me maintain the friction I need to get off. It’s not nearly enough; I need to be flush with his cock. So I hop up and wrap my legs around his waist, and ahhhhh, there it is … perfect.
We’re full-on dry humping each other like a pair of rabid dogs in his hallway now. He gently tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth as he snakes a hand up my blouse without breaking our rhythm. When he releases my bottom lip, he moves his head back a little to stare at me with a predatory look in his eyes. That look, mark my words, is going to be the death of me, I know it.
He licks his lips before saying in a gravelly voice, “I want to watch you.”
A groan escapes my throat in response to the impending orgasm that is going to be off-the-fucking-charts fantastic. His fingers lightly brush my stomach before making their way to the top button of my jeans. I arch my back from the wall at the contact, waiting to see what he’ll do next. I don’t have to wait long. The button is undone with an unceremonious snap, and he immediately dips the tips of his fingers inside the waistband of my jeans.
“Tell me how much you want me to make you come,” he whispers.
“Alex,” I say, almost pleading while gripping his hair so roughly that I’m sure I may have left a bald spot.
I drop my gaze to watch his hand start to dive in until it’s almost completely down my pants. Then the faintest brush of his fingers just below my navel brings reality crashing down around me as I remember what he’s going to find down there.
The granny panties.
This cannot be happening to me. I’m finally about to have what will undoubtedly be the best orgasm of my life—and not even from any kind of actual penetration, which is a feat in and of itself—and I have to stop? This freaking blows.
My hand grips his wrist that is currently shoved down my pants, and I regretfully stop his movements. “We have to stop.”
Alex looks as confused as you can imagine. We’re both still breathing hard as if we’ve just run a marathon, and his hand is mere inches away from finding out that I wax regularly. “Are you sure you want to stop?” he asks.
I answer by releasing his waist, which my legs are currently wrapped around like a vise. When my feet touch the ground again, I still have to extricate his hand out of my pants with careful precision. Because the last thing I need is to have a fingernail of his get snagged in the shitty fabric and watch in horror as it unspools when he brings his hand out for air.
Like a doctor performing surgery, I wait for his hand to release a little of the tension that I can feel within my grip before pulling it up and out of my pants. He plants both hands on either side of my head, keeping me trapped against the wall while still breathing heavily.
“This isn’t finished
—
you and I, it’s going to happen, Julia. You can make all the excuses you like and try to convince yourself that this isn’t a good idea, but if the last five minutes are any indication, it would be the best fucking decision we’ve ever made.”
“Alex, I’m …”
He presses a finger against my lips to keep me from explaining. And no, I wasn’t going to tell him about the holey underwear either; I’m not that much of a moron. I don’t even know what I’m going to say to him. I’m kind of at a loss for words because I do want this. I want him. But I don’t think I’m ready to throw caution to the wind just yet with him.