This Could Be Anywhere
That's what I've decided to call this for now. This is about three times as long as the last thing I posted and in serious need of editing, but what more do you want from a first draft? :P Here it is, please leave a comment after you've read it. Thanks.
I looked around at the dark buildings that shone in the light of the streetlamps. They looked abandoned and forlorn but I knew they were regularly used. I passed various apartment buildings and other establishments. The rain picked up just then. This city really does look dreary in the rain. I pressed my lips firmly together and hurried along the sodden street, huddling further under the shelter of my umbrella. Why did I pick tonight to go for a walk? Right, this was no leisurely stroll. It was about one or two in the morning and I just couldn't sleep. This happened a lot lately, my mind just kept taking me back to relive the many mistakes I had made recently, and it wouldn't stop mulling them over.
So here I was, on what seemed to be the most miserable night of my life, walking. In the rain. Don't get me wrong, I usually love the rain, but when it seems to be nature's commentary on my life... well, it didn't need to rub my misery in my face. Just sayin'.
Little did I expect that on these empty streets a sharp turn of a corner would have me colliding hard with... probably the most handsome human being I had ever seen. He hardly made a sound as we collided, except for the distinct sound of air leaving lungs quickly. I stepped back in shock and started to apologise but words abandoned me as I took in the sight of him.
He was almost half a head taller than me, with pale skin, dark sopping wet hair, which he pushed out of his sharp sapphire eyes. He smirked at me even as he sighed in irritation.
“Are you okay,” his deep voice asked.
Every nerve in my body seemed to tingle as I clutched the umbrella tighter, stood at attention, and stuttered a reply. “Y-yes, I mean, I'm sorry, I should pay more attention where I'm going, but I really didn't expect anyone to be out here so late and-”
“Well, you are, so why wouldn't anyone else be,” he asked matter-of-factly as he took a drag from a cigarette I hadn't noticed before.
I froze, realizing he was right, then relaxed with a sigh, “right, sorry.”
He chuckled and his eyes danced as he regarded me, “you're cute.”
It was then that I realised I was blushing, had been the whole time, because my cheeks got even hotter. My mind went blank for a moment, then I realized he was soaked. His dark dress shirt that was open a bit at the top and bottom, revealing a bit of pale skin, his khaki green form-fitting pants, even his shoes. Everything was soaked.
“Don't you have an umbrella,” I asked.
“Nope,” he replied simply, taking another drag, the smirk still firmly in place on his face.
I held my umbrella out to him. Now I was getting wet.
That wiped the smirk off his face and he seemed taken aback as he shoved the umbrella back so it covered me. “No, no, I'm fine, you'll get soaked.”
“But you're drenched to the bone,” I protested.
“Exactly,” he said, a hint of the smirk returning, “no point in both of us being wet.”
“Oh.” He had a point.
“What are you doing out here anyway,” he asked, “it's late for a girl to wander on her own.”
That got my back up, “I can handle myself,” he raised an eyebrow at this, “besides, I couldn't sleep, too much on my mind, so I decided to clear my head with a walk.”
“... in the rain,” more of his smirk returned.
He had a point, and I knew that. It bugged me. “What about you, what are you doing standing on a street corner smoking a cigarette in the rain?”
His smirk faltered a bit, “needed some air?” I didn't believe him, so I just stared.
He shifted his weight in seeming discomfort. “Trust me, cutie, you don't want to know.”
“My name's not cutie, and don't tell me what I don't want,” I hated that.
He raised an eyebrow again. “Well until I get a name, cutie it is,” he smirked at my feeble growl, “and are you sure you want to know?”
I studied him a moment, realised he was shivering ever so slightly, and his smirk was an attempt to disguise the misery in his eyes. “Yes.”
He frowned and studied me for a moment. It felt like forever before he spoke again, tossing his still-lit cigarette aside. His smirk was dialled up to its full, alluring potential, his eyes half predatory, half promiscuous. He took a step closer to me and I took a step back instinctively. He placed his right hand on the wall I had backed myself against, slipped his left into his pocket and leaned in so our faces were only inches apart. I could feel his breath on my skin as he asked, “looking for a good time, cutie?”
It took my sluggish brain a moment to process before it clicked. “No way.” I spoke so softly I doubted he heard me, but the look on my face must have been enough.
His grin broadened triumphantly but footsteps made him turn his predatory eyes on the intruder, his grin twisting darkly.
“She doesn't look interested, but I am.” The middle aged man folded his hands over his round belly and eyed my new friend as if he were a steak waiting to be devoured.
I hadn't noticed it but I realized now my companion's toned muscles had tensed, and he seemed to respond to this man like an animal responded to a predator. Your typical 'hunter becoming hunted' scenario. Then I saw the hint of fear in his eyes, there and gone in a flash, and spoke impulsively, staring at the now-prey and ignoring the intruder.
“How much?”
At first I though I had only thought the words because the now-prey didn't respond, but as I flicked a glance to the intruder the shock on his face told me I had. I wasn't about to be ignored by the one I was trying to save.
“How much,” I repeated, louder.
He sighed, and reluctantly returned his gaze to mine. Too many emotions in his beautiful eyes to decipher. To my surprise, he smirked. “You can't afford me.”
I glared at him, hoping I did a decent job looking annoyed as my heart pounded from the intensity of his gaze. Damn his pheromones. “Hey, you approached me, mister, don't go changing gears on me. I'm only asking this one more time, how much?”
He stared at me for a moment, the intruder ignored, and studied me. Just as the intruder was about to interrupt he abruptly said, “five hundred.”
My eyes widened, that was a lot for someone in school and on a part-time wage like I was. I had just gotten paid today though.
He smirked, but his eyes held a tormented look as he straightened, put his hands in his pockets, and said, “I told you you couldn't afford me, cutie.”
That look decided me. “Who says?”
He chuckled and started to turn away, I snatched his wrist and pulled him back. His look of surprise made me sad and pleased at the same time, because I saw hope mixed in there too.
I took out my wallet and counted $250 right under his nose. He flicked a shocked look my way before taking the cash, pocketing it, and tossing an arm around my shoulders.
He turned to the intruder, the smirk firmly in place on his lips once more, “there you have it.”
The intruder's face was beet red at this point and he looked dangerously angry, so I turned us around and marched us down the street as fast as I could without looking like we were running away.
“So, where's the rest, cutie?”
I looked up at my handsome companion, and frowned. His smirk seemed even less genuine than before. “I need to hit a bank machine, but I wanted to go over a few rules first.” He raised an eyebrow at me but I didn't feel like explaining right then. We walked in silence to the bank machine, where I took out another $300, then frowned.
“What is it?”
“Do you know anywhere to eat around here that's open at this hour?”
He looked a bit surprised, then frowned in thought. He shook his head, “even in the downtown area that's hard to find.”
I sighed, tried to ignore my growling stomach, and nodded, “didn't think so.”
He looked sidelong at me, seemed to notice my disappointment, draped his arm around my shoulders again, bringing fresh colour to my cheeks, and started guiding me down the street.
“Where are we going,” I asked.
“To eat. You're hungry, right?” He seemed to replay what he just said in his head, and smirked as if he found something funny.
“What?”
”Well, you see, this isn't the kind of hunger I'm used to sating.” I blushed more. As if I needed to be reminded of his profession. He chuckled, “but I can. I'm a decent cook if I do say so myself.”
“So we're going to...”
“My place,” he seemed worried and a bit unsure as he looked at me, “you don't mind, do you?”
“No, no,” though that did remind me we hadn't gone over my rules yet.
As if reading my mind he said, “so, what are these rules you mentioned?”
I realised he also hadn't asked for the other $250 again yet. “Part of them you've already guessed, I'm sure. You'll get the last $250 if you behave.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, “you are odd, usually I get paid to misbehave.” He winked and chuckled as I blushed.
“I mean it,” I tried to sound threatening, “if you do anything... promiscuous with me tonight you don't get the last $250.”
He chuckled, “you can't say 'sexual' can you?” I blushed more but he frowned, “why?”
That, I hadn’t expected. “Why what?
“I may be wrong but it seems like you're trying to give me a paid vacation. I want to know what your motivation is. What's in this for you?”
“I get to spend time with an attractive male for the night without having to worry about the...” I looked right at him as I said the next word, “sexual aspect of that, and I get to see you smile.”
“You've seen me smile,” he said.
“Really smile, I mean. You know, the kind that actually reaches your beautiful eyes.”
He looked surprised, then frowned. “We're almost there.”
I noticed the change of subject, but allowed it. “So, do you agree? To the rules, I mean.”
He looked straight at me, searching my face for who knows what, then nodded with a faint smile. “Sounds like this could be a fun game. I'm in.”
*****
His apartment was a lot neater than I had expected from a guy, but when I thought about it I guessed he was hardly ever in it. It looked almost like a show home, redwood flooring, forest green paint on the walls, a couch pushed against one side of the room, a rosewood coffee table in the centre. Paintings hung on some of the walls in frames that matched their content. A loveseat was tucked in a corner near a window and for some reason I imagined him sitting there reading.
A few steps in from the front door was a bathroom, which he glided into after bolting and chaining the door behind us. He emerged with a white, fluffy towel in each hand and tossed one to me. I caught it as I straightened from removing my shoes, he still wore his.
A sudden thought struck me, “no one ever comes here, do they?”
He paused towelling his hair, but quickly resumed, “I don't let them, yet here you are, and I don't even know your name.” He frowned as if confused for a moment.
“Clara,” I said with a smile, suddenly feeling like an intruder. “What's yours?”
He paused, considering me, as seemed to be a habit of his. Like he was deciding just what to tll me. “Erik,” he said after a moment. “Well, come in if you're coming in, I need to change so I'll be with you in a sec.”
I nodded and walked into the living room as he headed back into the bathroom. Was it normal for him to change right after he came home? Seemed like it. I settled into the large couch, which was somehow comfier than it appeared, and soft. Oh, how it was soft. I simply snuggled back into it until I heard the bathroom door handle turn, and felt surprised to see him in jeans and a tee, the normal clothing somehow seemed odd on him, but I shrugged the feeling off. He glanced back at the bathroom door, seeming rather chagrined, but continued walking toward me. I noticed the logo on his shirt and smiled. “Disturbed, huh? Great band.”
“Fucking amazing band,” he said emphatically, then looked surprised, “but not a band I thought you'd be interested in.”
I grinned, “you'll see I'm full of surprises.”
“Yeah, I'm getting that impression,” he said dryly and smiled. “So, what are you feeling tonight?”
“Huh,” I said, brilliantly.
He chuckled, “you're hungry, right? What are you craving?”
“Oh.” Yeah, I was a real Poe tonight, “I'm not fussy. What do you like to cook?”
“What do I-” he blinked, “no one's ever asked me that before.”
I got the feeling no one asked him much ever. They probably just talked about themselves, if they talked at all. Now I felt bad. “Well get used to it, I want to get to know you.” His eyes narrowed suddenly, a look of suspicion overtaking his expression. I waved my hands in front of myself defensively, “not for any malicious reason.” I looked down at my feet, wondering how terrible his life must have been if he suspected everyone of treachery. “You just seem like a nice guy is all,” I finished feebly, still staring at my feet.
Suddenly he was moving towards me with predatory speed and I was trapped between him and the couch. No escape again, seemed like this would be a recurring theme with us. “I am anything but a nice guy,” he purred maliciously, an odd light in his eyes paralysing me, “don't forget that. I swallowed, I couldn't take my eyes off his. When I didn't move for a while, he seemed satisfied and straightened. He sighed and raked is fingers through his mostly dry hair. “Any allergies?”
His sudden question took me off guard and I stared at him blankly.
He sighed again, “the food? Do you have any allergies?” He paused before continuing, “beyond that are you even hungry anymore?”
He wasn't looking at me. I must have looked even more rattled than I felt. “No,” I answered, then realised I needed to be more specific, “to the allergies I mean. I am still hungry,” I paused, “though I can cook for myself if it's too much trouble.”
He slid a glance my way, saw my apologetic expression, and sighed again. “No,” he said, sounding calmer, “I offered to cook and I meant it. Wait here,” he turned, took one step, turned back, “oh, and there's tons of CD’s over there,” he jerked his thumb towards the entertainment centre sat with the TV, DVD player, and stereo, “go ahead and put something on if you like.” He turned then and strode into the kitchen.
I waited a moment, then stood and approached the rack of CD’s beside the entertainment centre. I thumbed through the CD's for a while before selecting Die Mannequin and popping it into the CD player. I turned it up so it could be heard in the kitchen, then wandered over to it. I stealthily peered around the corner, then froze. I couldn't believe my eyes. Erik was smiling softly as he moved around the kitchen preparing the food. He seemed so relaxed, I just wanted to stare at him like this forever... Wow, creepy much?
Just as I thought that he chuckled, raised his voice a little so it was just louder than the music, and commented, “another one I wouldn't have chosen for you, Clara.”
Somehow, hearing him say my name made my skin tingle, I leaned my back against the wall and raised my voice ever so slightly, “yeah.” I looked over my shoulder and spied another treat, he was dancing a little to the music. Let me fill you in on something, if anyone ever tells you guys can't move like we do, especially their hips, they are lying! But that's a story for another time.
I watched him chop chicken, stir something in a pot, and add ingredients to it. He used no measuring anything by the way. After some time, he turned to the kitchen entrance, raised his voice and called, “hey,” then raised his eyes and spotted me. We stared at eachother until he broke the tension by laughing. “Is it really that rare?”
“A man who knows how to cook? Almost extinct,” I replied.
He bowed dramatically and I giggled. “I was going to tell you it's going to be ready soon.”
“Can I do anything to help?” I eyed the stove, into which he had placed the concoction.
He thought for a moment, then shrugged, “set the table? The flatware is in the cabinet right beside it.”
“Kay,” I skipped away and was rewarded with a chuckle. The dining room was also pristine like a show home, and I was afraid to touch anything. I shrugged the feeling off and set the table. Everything was easy to find, he was very organised, another surprising trait.
He came in a minute later with the steaming casserole dish and a plate of croissants on a tray in each hand. I eyes them then raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged then placed the trays on the table and motioned for me to sit.
I sat and blushed a bit, giggling, as he tucked my chair in like a gentleman. No one had ever done that before. He sat across from me, noted the candle in the centre with a raised eyebrow, and I shrugged. He smiled and lifted his hands... then abruptly dropped them.
He eyed me for a moment before asking uncomfortably, “you're not religious are you? Do we have to pray?”
I giggled, “no, I'm agnostic, and no we do not.” As if to prove it, I picked up the serving spoon and served myself some... “tetrazzini, my favourite.”
He relaxed and smiled, “I bet you've never had it made completely from scratch though, have you?”
I shook my head. I didn't have to ask, I had seen him make everything from scratch, even the croissants. I smiled at him and dug in with relish. He chuckled and served himself. It was quiet while we ate, but not an awkward silence, at least not on my part. Every once in a while I noticed he was looking at me and I tried not to blush or stare, I had never really spent time with an attractive male before, so I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself. After the meal he stood, took up his plate and reached for mine. I refused it and he raised an eyebrow.
I smiled at him and explained, “the least I can do is wash up. It's a habit my parents gave me.”
He smiled back, “and a good one to boot, but I'm going to have to say no thanks.”
I looked at him curiously and he shifted his weight somewhat uncomfortably.
“I'm really particular about the cleanliness of this place... you could say I'm a bit OCD when it comes to that.” He watched me warily.
“Oh,” I smiled brightly, “okay, sorry.” I handed him the plate and he balanced all the dishes on his arms like a pro.
“Don't be, I appreciate the offer,” he said, turned away, then abruptly turned back with an impish grin on his face. “Feel free to come watch me again.” He winked, I blushed, and he chuckled and went into the kitchen.
I hesitated, then followed him. He was waiting for me, his hand outstretched. There was a towel in it. It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
He shrugged, “figured I'd let you help.”
I smiled and took the towel from him, We stood side by side, going through the motions for a while before I broke the silence. “So, have you worked in a restaurant before?”
He stopped abruptly, then looked at me, “I work at one now. How did you know?”
I giggled, “the way you cleared the dishes.”
He thought for a moment then shrugged, “I didn't even notice, must be second nature now.”
I nodded and he frowned. “What's wrong,” I asked.
“I don't usually talk about my personal life with clients,” he replied.
I froze. I had forgotten about that part. “Oh,” was all I could say.
The dishes done, he turned and examined my face, drying his hands, “I don't know why I keep divulging to you.”
“I don't mind,” I tried for a smile but his expression told me he did mind. I chewed on my bottom lip and sighed, “maybe I should go...” I turned, but he took hold of my wrist and gently turned me back.
“No, I,” he sighed, “I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, I just haven't opened up to anyone who doesn't share my profession in a long time. It's rather awkward for me.” He wasn't meeting my eyes.
“I see, well sorry if I made you uncomfortable, that wasn't my intention,” and, as far as I could tell, he really hadn't divulged anything personal. He nodded and his bangs fell into his eyes the way I liked. I couldn't help smiling as I guided him over to the couch and pulled so he sat next to me.
We sat in silence for a while and I wondered what was going through his mind. I couldn't believe I had forgotten how awkward this must be for him. I was a stranger in a home he never let anyone enter. How could I be so thoughtless?
“Don't worry so much,” he said, startling me. Was he a mind reader? “I can tell by your expression that you're worrying about it. Don't.”
I met his eyes and saw something in them, foreign yet familiar, but then it was gone. He put his arm around my shoulders and gently pulled. “You said nothing sexual, but nothing about cuddling.”
I giggled and let him pull me into his arms, my heart pounding as I felt my cheeks heat. “Nothing wrong with cuddling,” I said almost inaudibly. If he hadn't been so close he probably wouldn't have heard me.
He chuckled, “it does it for some people, but it's another thing I rarely do.” I tried to move away but he was stronger. He sighed, “listen, I feel the need to earn my pay, let me okay?”
I hesitated, then relaxed into his arms. I didn't say it but I didn't like that I kept making him do things he wouldn't of his own volition. I wondered if he was feeling uncomfortable again. I didn't want to be just another client. “Well... don't do anything you don't want to, okay?” He started to protest, but I cut in, “yes, I'm your client, but this is your client's request. Don't do anything you're uncomfotrable with.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, “I'm a whore and you think I'm uncomfortable with cuddling?”
“Yes,” I said, and he looked surprised, “yes, because it's an emotional thing, and I'm guessing where the sexual stuff is uncomfortable for me, the emotional stuff is uncomfortable for you. I can only imagine what you've gone through,” I trailed off and we sat in silence awhile.
Then, suddenly, he kissed the top of my head, speaking softly, “I can't believe it, but I think you're starting to get it... and... I'm ok with cuddling. I haven't done anything I didn't want to yet tonight.”
I smiled and cuddled into him, “kay.”
“You're right, usually I lock my emotions away then I'm working, but tonight I haven't felt the need to. Usually cuddling or being close without sexual actions being involved makes me feel very uncomfortable. Tonight, though, it just feels different...”
“Maybe you're relaxing?”
”Yeah, maybe I needed this as much as you did.” He smiled then. A real smile, I could tell. That made me extremely happy. Mission accomplished. I close my eyes, smiled, and relaxed into him.
I felt myself drifting to sleep even though I resisted it, but Erik chuckled and shifted. I opened my eyes just in time to see him smile at me as he lifted me into his arms. I immediately wrapped mine around his neck and he chuckled again.
“Relax, I'm not going to drop you,” he said, pretending to be offended.
I relaxed a little, “I know, you startled me is all.”
“Well, you were falling asleep and I figured it was high time I took you to bed.” My heart galloped as my cheeks burned with a new intensity. He had the nerve to chuckle again.
“You promised-”
“Relax,” he spoke while laughing, “dirty minded, aren't we? Bed doesn't always mean sex.” I relaxed and he sighed, “no wonder that was your condition. What quality of men have you been spending your time with if you have to be so defensive?”
I couldn't look at him, he had hit the issue on the head. I had next to no experience being with a man who just wanted to be with me for who I was. I had no idea what being in a meaningful relationship felt like. My friends were all getting married and I hadn't had even one proper relationship in my life.
He sighed again and I looked at him in time to see anger be replaced with determination on his gorgeous face. “Then I promise you, not as my client but as a woman, I will never do anything without your consent. Understand?”
I hesitated, I couldn't find any words to respond to that.
“I know they're just words, but you'll learn one thing about me is I always keep my promises.”
I found just enough lucidity to nod. I couldn't take my eyes off his.
“Good. Now, what do you say we go cuddle up in my big, warm bed. You're freezing.”
I hadn't realised it because he was so warm, not uncomfortably so, but it was pretty cold in there. Thankfully I found my voice that time. “Sounds fantastic. Cuddling up to sleep in a big, warm bed with a charming, attractive male who knows how to behave himself? Have I died and gone to heaven?”
He smiled broadly, “nah, I'm no angel, I just know how to treat a woman right.” He winked and walked us to his room. There was a slight hesitation before he crossed the threshold, but after taking a deep breath he crossed it.
Going to his room was scary for me too, but I felt if he was going to trust me, I could at least reciprocate. I watched his face as he placed me on his bed, and he smiled at me. “It's okay. No one but me's usually in here but... I think you'll be okay.”
I wondered what he meant by that but I decided not to ask. Instead I looked around. The walls were painted a beautiful red with black borders and thick, black curtains in the window. He explained those with a shrug and by saying, “I sleep during the morning usually.”
I nodded, of course, and continued to take in my new surroundings. The lampshade over the main light was darkened so the light wasn't so intense, almost mood-lighting. I suppressed a giggle. There was a bookshelf on one wall jam-packed full of books, a comfortable looking couch on the other. It seemed well-used. Perhaps a favourite reading spot.
Then I examined the bed. The covers I sat on were soft, some red but the fotted sheet and pillow were black. The pillows were big and puffy. The queen sized bed would have been disconcerting if it had just been me.
I smiled up at Erik, then realised he had been watching me intently. Trying to keep the smile on my face now that I suddenly felt nervous, I said, “it's wonderful. I wish I could do my place up like this.”
He tried to smile, but was obviously on edge. “Yeah, I play around with where everything is in this place, and the colour scheme, except this room.”
Safe haven. I didn't realise I'd said it out loud until I noticed the look of surprise on his face. I shifted uncomfortably.
“Exactly,” he said, “I'd ask why that's your first answer , but I'm pretty sure it'd just piss me off and make me want to hurt someone.” I tensed instinctively. “Not you,” he said hurriedly, “but whoever made those two things your natural reactions.” There was an odd glint in his eye I was nowhere near confident enough to explore right then. He looked me over, then raised an eyebrow at me. “Do you always sleep in your clothes?”
“No, but,” I trailed off. I had sleepwear, but no way in hell was I sleeping in my skivvies.
As if reading my mind again, he chuckled and went to the dresser that sat beside the bed and rummaged in the drawers. He pulled out a modest nightgown that looked like it would fit.
I raised an eyebrow at him, “I'm not even going to ask.”
He chuckled, “I prepare for the worst. You don't mind if I take my shirt and shoes off, do ya?”
I looked at his chest, blushed, and shook my head. “I want you to be comfortable in your own home.”
He smiled, handed me the nightgown, and kissed the top of my head. “I am , but I'll let you change in here.” He left, closing the door behind himself.
I tried not to dwell on how it felt to have him kiss my head, standing so close... I changed into the nightgown and folded my clothes, laying them on the couch. After fidgeting a bit in that nervous-perfectionist way I have, I opened the door and stared at my feet, my cheeks burning.
He said nothing for so long I got worried but suddenly he whistled. “That really suits you.”
I blushed harder, “you're just saying that because I'm paying you.”
He put his fingers under my chin and lifted it so I had to look at him. He was frowning, “I mean it, and I really wish you would stop thinking that of me...”
I sighed, “I'm sorry, I'm just not used to this,” I looked away as I spoke.
He released me and moved past me and into the room, “I know, and I thought we were the only ones who knew how that felt.”
As his voice trailed off I came up behind him and hugged him. “I'm sorry, I'm not trying to make you remember that stuff.”
He turned in surprise, then embraced me too. Nothing had ever felt so right in my life. His body, strong yet gentle, sheltering mine. “You're not bringing it back,” he said simply, bluntly, and surprisingly honestly, “it just never really goes away.” He pulled back and smiled, “but sometimes people like you help us cope.”
I returned his smile and he released me. He turned back the covers and climbed in, and I slowly followed. This was awkward for me, I wasn't used to sharing a bed with anyone let alone a handsome male I was attracted to. His chuckle pulled me from my thoughts.
“I won't bite, you know. I do bite, I just don't think you'd be into that,” he teased.
I realised there was a chasm between us and I blushed. “Maybe I would,” I tried teasing back as I slid closer, but I figured the blush ruined the effect. He grinned and pulled me into his arms. Again I was overwhelmed with a feeling of rightness, of belonging, and it scared me just as much as it thrilled me. I figured he must be able to feel my heart pounding if he couldn't hear it, but he didn't give anything away. I looked up at him and realised that he was, again, watching me.
I blushed even harder, “what?”
He smiled in a way I'd never seen before. He spoke softly, “nothing, you just seem as comfortable with this as I am, which is good. This feels strangely alright somehow... a rare feeling around other people for me.”
I nodded and cuddled closer, and after a moment I felt his hand on my head. My eyelids became heavier as he stroked my hair, breathing in his scent. He smelled masculine, but not in an unpleasant way. I found it a bit odd that he hadn't smelled like the cigarette he had been smoking when I bumped into him, not that I was complaining. When I was almost asleep, I felt his hand still and he kissed the top of my head.
“Goodnight Clara,” I barely heard him whisper, “and thank you.”
I looked around at the dark buildings that shone in the light of the streetlamps. They looked abandoned and forlorn but I knew they were regularly used. I passed various apartment buildings and other establishments. The rain picked up just then. This city really does look dreary in the rain. I pressed my lips firmly together and hurried along the sodden street, huddling further under the shelter of my umbrella. Why did I pick tonight to go for a walk? Right, this was no leisurely stroll. It was about one or two in the morning and I just couldn't sleep. This happened a lot lately, my mind just kept taking me back to relive the many mistakes I had made recently, and it wouldn't stop mulling them over.
So here I was, on what seemed to be the most miserable night of my life, walking. In the rain. Don't get me wrong, I usually love the rain, but when it seems to be nature's commentary on my life... well, it didn't need to rub my misery in my face. Just sayin'.
Little did I expect that on these empty streets a sharp turn of a corner would have me colliding hard with... probably the most handsome human being I had ever seen. He hardly made a sound as we collided, except for the distinct sound of air leaving lungs quickly. I stepped back in shock and started to apologise but words abandoned me as I took in the sight of him.
He was almost half a head taller than me, with pale skin, dark sopping wet hair, which he pushed out of his sharp sapphire eyes. He smirked at me even as he sighed in irritation.
“Are you okay,” his deep voice asked.
Every nerve in my body seemed to tingle as I clutched the umbrella tighter, stood at attention, and stuttered a reply. “Y-yes, I mean, I'm sorry, I should pay more attention where I'm going, but I really didn't expect anyone to be out here so late and-”
“Well, you are, so why wouldn't anyone else be,” he asked matter-of-factly as he took a drag from a cigarette I hadn't noticed before.
I froze, realizing he was right, then relaxed with a sigh, “right, sorry.”
He chuckled and his eyes danced as he regarded me, “you're cute.”
It was then that I realised I was blushing, had been the whole time, because my cheeks got even hotter. My mind went blank for a moment, then I realized he was soaked. His dark dress shirt that was open a bit at the top and bottom, revealing a bit of pale skin, his khaki green form-fitting pants, even his shoes. Everything was soaked.
“Don't you have an umbrella,” I asked.
“Nope,” he replied simply, taking another drag, the smirk still firmly in place on his face.
I held my umbrella out to him. Now I was getting wet.
That wiped the smirk off his face and he seemed taken aback as he shoved the umbrella back so it covered me. “No, no, I'm fine, you'll get soaked.”
“But you're drenched to the bone,” I protested.
“Exactly,” he said, a hint of the smirk returning, “no point in both of us being wet.”
“Oh.” He had a point.
“What are you doing out here anyway,” he asked, “it's late for a girl to wander on her own.”
That got my back up, “I can handle myself,” he raised an eyebrow at this, “besides, I couldn't sleep, too much on my mind, so I decided to clear my head with a walk.”
“... in the rain,” more of his smirk returned.
He had a point, and I knew that. It bugged me. “What about you, what are you doing standing on a street corner smoking a cigarette in the rain?”
His smirk faltered a bit, “needed some air?” I didn't believe him, so I just stared.
He shifted his weight in seeming discomfort. “Trust me, cutie, you don't want to know.”
“My name's not cutie, and don't tell me what I don't want,” I hated that.
He raised an eyebrow again. “Well until I get a name, cutie it is,” he smirked at my feeble growl, “and are you sure you want to know?”
I studied him a moment, realised he was shivering ever so slightly, and his smirk was an attempt to disguise the misery in his eyes. “Yes.”
He frowned and studied me for a moment. It felt like forever before he spoke again, tossing his still-lit cigarette aside. His smirk was dialled up to its full, alluring potential, his eyes half predatory, half promiscuous. He took a step closer to me and I took a step back instinctively. He placed his right hand on the wall I had backed myself against, slipped his left into his pocket and leaned in so our faces were only inches apart. I could feel his breath on my skin as he asked, “looking for a good time, cutie?”
It took my sluggish brain a moment to process before it clicked. “No way.” I spoke so softly I doubted he heard me, but the look on my face must have been enough.
His grin broadened triumphantly but footsteps made him turn his predatory eyes on the intruder, his grin twisting darkly.
“She doesn't look interested, but I am.” The middle aged man folded his hands over his round belly and eyed my new friend as if he were a steak waiting to be devoured.
I hadn't noticed it but I realized now my companion's toned muscles had tensed, and he seemed to respond to this man like an animal responded to a predator. Your typical 'hunter becoming hunted' scenario. Then I saw the hint of fear in his eyes, there and gone in a flash, and spoke impulsively, staring at the now-prey and ignoring the intruder.
“How much?”
At first I though I had only thought the words because the now-prey didn't respond, but as I flicked a glance to the intruder the shock on his face told me I had. I wasn't about to be ignored by the one I was trying to save.
“How much,” I repeated, louder.
He sighed, and reluctantly returned his gaze to mine. Too many emotions in his beautiful eyes to decipher. To my surprise, he smirked. “You can't afford me.”
I glared at him, hoping I did a decent job looking annoyed as my heart pounded from the intensity of his gaze. Damn his pheromones. “Hey, you approached me, mister, don't go changing gears on me. I'm only asking this one more time, how much?”
He stared at me for a moment, the intruder ignored, and studied me. Just as the intruder was about to interrupt he abruptly said, “five hundred.”
My eyes widened, that was a lot for someone in school and on a part-time wage like I was. I had just gotten paid today though.
He smirked, but his eyes held a tormented look as he straightened, put his hands in his pockets, and said, “I told you you couldn't afford me, cutie.”
That look decided me. “Who says?”
He chuckled and started to turn away, I snatched his wrist and pulled him back. His look of surprise made me sad and pleased at the same time, because I saw hope mixed in there too.
I took out my wallet and counted $250 right under his nose. He flicked a shocked look my way before taking the cash, pocketing it, and tossing an arm around my shoulders.
He turned to the intruder, the smirk firmly in place on his lips once more, “there you have it.”
The intruder's face was beet red at this point and he looked dangerously angry, so I turned us around and marched us down the street as fast as I could without looking like we were running away.
“So, where's the rest, cutie?”
I looked up at my handsome companion, and frowned. His smirk seemed even less genuine than before. “I need to hit a bank machine, but I wanted to go over a few rules first.” He raised an eyebrow at me but I didn't feel like explaining right then. We walked in silence to the bank machine, where I took out another $300, then frowned.
“What is it?”
“Do you know anywhere to eat around here that's open at this hour?”
He looked a bit surprised, then frowned in thought. He shook his head, “even in the downtown area that's hard to find.”
I sighed, tried to ignore my growling stomach, and nodded, “didn't think so.”
He looked sidelong at me, seemed to notice my disappointment, draped his arm around my shoulders again, bringing fresh colour to my cheeks, and started guiding me down the street.
“Where are we going,” I asked.
“To eat. You're hungry, right?” He seemed to replay what he just said in his head, and smirked as if he found something funny.
“What?”
”Well, you see, this isn't the kind of hunger I'm used to sating.” I blushed more. As if I needed to be reminded of his profession. He chuckled, “but I can. I'm a decent cook if I do say so myself.”
“So we're going to...”
“My place,” he seemed worried and a bit unsure as he looked at me, “you don't mind, do you?”
“No, no,” though that did remind me we hadn't gone over my rules yet.
As if reading my mind he said, “so, what are these rules you mentioned?”
I realised he also hadn't asked for the other $250 again yet. “Part of them you've already guessed, I'm sure. You'll get the last $250 if you behave.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, “you are odd, usually I get paid to misbehave.” He winked and chuckled as I blushed.
“I mean it,” I tried to sound threatening, “if you do anything... promiscuous with me tonight you don't get the last $250.”
He chuckled, “you can't say 'sexual' can you?” I blushed more but he frowned, “why?”
That, I hadn’t expected. “Why what?
“I may be wrong but it seems like you're trying to give me a paid vacation. I want to know what your motivation is. What's in this for you?”
“I get to spend time with an attractive male for the night without having to worry about the...” I looked right at him as I said the next word, “sexual aspect of that, and I get to see you smile.”
“You've seen me smile,” he said.
“Really smile, I mean. You know, the kind that actually reaches your beautiful eyes.”
He looked surprised, then frowned. “We're almost there.”
I noticed the change of subject, but allowed it. “So, do you agree? To the rules, I mean.”
He looked straight at me, searching my face for who knows what, then nodded with a faint smile. “Sounds like this could be a fun game. I'm in.”
*****
His apartment was a lot neater than I had expected from a guy, but when I thought about it I guessed he was hardly ever in it. It looked almost like a show home, redwood flooring, forest green paint on the walls, a couch pushed against one side of the room, a rosewood coffee table in the centre. Paintings hung on some of the walls in frames that matched their content. A loveseat was tucked in a corner near a window and for some reason I imagined him sitting there reading.
A few steps in from the front door was a bathroom, which he glided into after bolting and chaining the door behind us. He emerged with a white, fluffy towel in each hand and tossed one to me. I caught it as I straightened from removing my shoes, he still wore his.
A sudden thought struck me, “no one ever comes here, do they?”
He paused towelling his hair, but quickly resumed, “I don't let them, yet here you are, and I don't even know your name.” He frowned as if confused for a moment.
“Clara,” I said with a smile, suddenly feeling like an intruder. “What's yours?”
He paused, considering me, as seemed to be a habit of his. Like he was deciding just what to tll me. “Erik,” he said after a moment. “Well, come in if you're coming in, I need to change so I'll be with you in a sec.”
I nodded and walked into the living room as he headed back into the bathroom. Was it normal for him to change right after he came home? Seemed like it. I settled into the large couch, which was somehow comfier than it appeared, and soft. Oh, how it was soft. I simply snuggled back into it until I heard the bathroom door handle turn, and felt surprised to see him in jeans and a tee, the normal clothing somehow seemed odd on him, but I shrugged the feeling off. He glanced back at the bathroom door, seeming rather chagrined, but continued walking toward me. I noticed the logo on his shirt and smiled. “Disturbed, huh? Great band.”
“Fucking amazing band,” he said emphatically, then looked surprised, “but not a band I thought you'd be interested in.”
I grinned, “you'll see I'm full of surprises.”
“Yeah, I'm getting that impression,” he said dryly and smiled. “So, what are you feeling tonight?”
“Huh,” I said, brilliantly.
He chuckled, “you're hungry, right? What are you craving?”
“Oh.” Yeah, I was a real Poe tonight, “I'm not fussy. What do you like to cook?”
“What do I-” he blinked, “no one's ever asked me that before.”
I got the feeling no one asked him much ever. They probably just talked about themselves, if they talked at all. Now I felt bad. “Well get used to it, I want to get to know you.” His eyes narrowed suddenly, a look of suspicion overtaking his expression. I waved my hands in front of myself defensively, “not for any malicious reason.” I looked down at my feet, wondering how terrible his life must have been if he suspected everyone of treachery. “You just seem like a nice guy is all,” I finished feebly, still staring at my feet.
Suddenly he was moving towards me with predatory speed and I was trapped between him and the couch. No escape again, seemed like this would be a recurring theme with us. “I am anything but a nice guy,” he purred maliciously, an odd light in his eyes paralysing me, “don't forget that. I swallowed, I couldn't take my eyes off his. When I didn't move for a while, he seemed satisfied and straightened. He sighed and raked is fingers through his mostly dry hair. “Any allergies?”
His sudden question took me off guard and I stared at him blankly.
He sighed again, “the food? Do you have any allergies?” He paused before continuing, “beyond that are you even hungry anymore?”
He wasn't looking at me. I must have looked even more rattled than I felt. “No,” I answered, then realised I needed to be more specific, “to the allergies I mean. I am still hungry,” I paused, “though I can cook for myself if it's too much trouble.”
He slid a glance my way, saw my apologetic expression, and sighed again. “No,” he said, sounding calmer, “I offered to cook and I meant it. Wait here,” he turned, took one step, turned back, “oh, and there's tons of CD’s over there,” he jerked his thumb towards the entertainment centre sat with the TV, DVD player, and stereo, “go ahead and put something on if you like.” He turned then and strode into the kitchen.
I waited a moment, then stood and approached the rack of CD’s beside the entertainment centre. I thumbed through the CD's for a while before selecting Die Mannequin and popping it into the CD player. I turned it up so it could be heard in the kitchen, then wandered over to it. I stealthily peered around the corner, then froze. I couldn't believe my eyes. Erik was smiling softly as he moved around the kitchen preparing the food. He seemed so relaxed, I just wanted to stare at him like this forever... Wow, creepy much?
Just as I thought that he chuckled, raised his voice a little so it was just louder than the music, and commented, “another one I wouldn't have chosen for you, Clara.”
Somehow, hearing him say my name made my skin tingle, I leaned my back against the wall and raised my voice ever so slightly, “yeah.” I looked over my shoulder and spied another treat, he was dancing a little to the music. Let me fill you in on something, if anyone ever tells you guys can't move like we do, especially their hips, they are lying! But that's a story for another time.
I watched him chop chicken, stir something in a pot, and add ingredients to it. He used no measuring anything by the way. After some time, he turned to the kitchen entrance, raised his voice and called, “hey,” then raised his eyes and spotted me. We stared at eachother until he broke the tension by laughing. “Is it really that rare?”
“A man who knows how to cook? Almost extinct,” I replied.
He bowed dramatically and I giggled. “I was going to tell you it's going to be ready soon.”
“Can I do anything to help?” I eyed the stove, into which he had placed the concoction.
He thought for a moment, then shrugged, “set the table? The flatware is in the cabinet right beside it.”
“Kay,” I skipped away and was rewarded with a chuckle. The dining room was also pristine like a show home, and I was afraid to touch anything. I shrugged the feeling off and set the table. Everything was easy to find, he was very organised, another surprising trait.
He came in a minute later with the steaming casserole dish and a plate of croissants on a tray in each hand. I eyes them then raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged then placed the trays on the table and motioned for me to sit.
I sat and blushed a bit, giggling, as he tucked my chair in like a gentleman. No one had ever done that before. He sat across from me, noted the candle in the centre with a raised eyebrow, and I shrugged. He smiled and lifted his hands... then abruptly dropped them.
He eyed me for a moment before asking uncomfortably, “you're not religious are you? Do we have to pray?”
I giggled, “no, I'm agnostic, and no we do not.” As if to prove it, I picked up the serving spoon and served myself some... “tetrazzini, my favourite.”
He relaxed and smiled, “I bet you've never had it made completely from scratch though, have you?”
I shook my head. I didn't have to ask, I had seen him make everything from scratch, even the croissants. I smiled at him and dug in with relish. He chuckled and served himself. It was quiet while we ate, but not an awkward silence, at least not on my part. Every once in a while I noticed he was looking at me and I tried not to blush or stare, I had never really spent time with an attractive male before, so I wasn't quite sure what to do with myself. After the meal he stood, took up his plate and reached for mine. I refused it and he raised an eyebrow.
I smiled at him and explained, “the least I can do is wash up. It's a habit my parents gave me.”
He smiled back, “and a good one to boot, but I'm going to have to say no thanks.”
I looked at him curiously and he shifted his weight somewhat uncomfortably.
“I'm really particular about the cleanliness of this place... you could say I'm a bit OCD when it comes to that.” He watched me warily.
“Oh,” I smiled brightly, “okay, sorry.” I handed him the plate and he balanced all the dishes on his arms like a pro.
“Don't be, I appreciate the offer,” he said, turned away, then abruptly turned back with an impish grin on his face. “Feel free to come watch me again.” He winked, I blushed, and he chuckled and went into the kitchen.
I hesitated, then followed him. He was waiting for me, his hand outstretched. There was a towel in it. It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.
He shrugged, “figured I'd let you help.”
I smiled and took the towel from him, We stood side by side, going through the motions for a while before I broke the silence. “So, have you worked in a restaurant before?”
He stopped abruptly, then looked at me, “I work at one now. How did you know?”
I giggled, “the way you cleared the dishes.”
He thought for a moment then shrugged, “I didn't even notice, must be second nature now.”
I nodded and he frowned. “What's wrong,” I asked.
“I don't usually talk about my personal life with clients,” he replied.
I froze. I had forgotten about that part. “Oh,” was all I could say.
The dishes done, he turned and examined my face, drying his hands, “I don't know why I keep divulging to you.”
“I don't mind,” I tried for a smile but his expression told me he did mind. I chewed on my bottom lip and sighed, “maybe I should go...” I turned, but he took hold of my wrist and gently turned me back.
“No, I,” he sighed, “I didn't mean that. I'm sorry, I just haven't opened up to anyone who doesn't share my profession in a long time. It's rather awkward for me.” He wasn't meeting my eyes.
“I see, well sorry if I made you uncomfortable, that wasn't my intention,” and, as far as I could tell, he really hadn't divulged anything personal. He nodded and his bangs fell into his eyes the way I liked. I couldn't help smiling as I guided him over to the couch and pulled so he sat next to me.
We sat in silence for a while and I wondered what was going through his mind. I couldn't believe I had forgotten how awkward this must be for him. I was a stranger in a home he never let anyone enter. How could I be so thoughtless?
“Don't worry so much,” he said, startling me. Was he a mind reader? “I can tell by your expression that you're worrying about it. Don't.”
I met his eyes and saw something in them, foreign yet familiar, but then it was gone. He put his arm around my shoulders and gently pulled. “You said nothing sexual, but nothing about cuddling.”
I giggled and let him pull me into his arms, my heart pounding as I felt my cheeks heat. “Nothing wrong with cuddling,” I said almost inaudibly. If he hadn't been so close he probably wouldn't have heard me.
He chuckled, “it does it for some people, but it's another thing I rarely do.” I tried to move away but he was stronger. He sighed, “listen, I feel the need to earn my pay, let me okay?”
I hesitated, then relaxed into his arms. I didn't say it but I didn't like that I kept making him do things he wouldn't of his own volition. I wondered if he was feeling uncomfortable again. I didn't want to be just another client. “Well... don't do anything you don't want to, okay?” He started to protest, but I cut in, “yes, I'm your client, but this is your client's request. Don't do anything you're uncomfotrable with.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, “I'm a whore and you think I'm uncomfortable with cuddling?”
“Yes,” I said, and he looked surprised, “yes, because it's an emotional thing, and I'm guessing where the sexual stuff is uncomfortable for me, the emotional stuff is uncomfortable for you. I can only imagine what you've gone through,” I trailed off and we sat in silence awhile.
Then, suddenly, he kissed the top of my head, speaking softly, “I can't believe it, but I think you're starting to get it... and... I'm ok with cuddling. I haven't done anything I didn't want to yet tonight.”
I smiled and cuddled into him, “kay.”
“You're right, usually I lock my emotions away then I'm working, but tonight I haven't felt the need to. Usually cuddling or being close without sexual actions being involved makes me feel very uncomfortable. Tonight, though, it just feels different...”
“Maybe you're relaxing?”
”Yeah, maybe I needed this as much as you did.” He smiled then. A real smile, I could tell. That made me extremely happy. Mission accomplished. I close my eyes, smiled, and relaxed into him.
I felt myself drifting to sleep even though I resisted it, but Erik chuckled and shifted. I opened my eyes just in time to see him smile at me as he lifted me into his arms. I immediately wrapped mine around his neck and he chuckled again.
“Relax, I'm not going to drop you,” he said, pretending to be offended.
I relaxed a little, “I know, you startled me is all.”
“Well, you were falling asleep and I figured it was high time I took you to bed.” My heart galloped as my cheeks burned with a new intensity. He had the nerve to chuckle again.
“You promised-”
“Relax,” he spoke while laughing, “dirty minded, aren't we? Bed doesn't always mean sex.” I relaxed and he sighed, “no wonder that was your condition. What quality of men have you been spending your time with if you have to be so defensive?”
I couldn't look at him, he had hit the issue on the head. I had next to no experience being with a man who just wanted to be with me for who I was. I had no idea what being in a meaningful relationship felt like. My friends were all getting married and I hadn't had even one proper relationship in my life.
He sighed again and I looked at him in time to see anger be replaced with determination on his gorgeous face. “Then I promise you, not as my client but as a woman, I will never do anything without your consent. Understand?”
I hesitated, I couldn't find any words to respond to that.
“I know they're just words, but you'll learn one thing about me is I always keep my promises.”
I found just enough lucidity to nod. I couldn't take my eyes off his.
“Good. Now, what do you say we go cuddle up in my big, warm bed. You're freezing.”
I hadn't realised it because he was so warm, not uncomfortably so, but it was pretty cold in there. Thankfully I found my voice that time. “Sounds fantastic. Cuddling up to sleep in a big, warm bed with a charming, attractive male who knows how to behave himself? Have I died and gone to heaven?”
He smiled broadly, “nah, I'm no angel, I just know how to treat a woman right.” He winked and walked us to his room. There was a slight hesitation before he crossed the threshold, but after taking a deep breath he crossed it.
Going to his room was scary for me too, but I felt if he was going to trust me, I could at least reciprocate. I watched his face as he placed me on his bed, and he smiled at me. “It's okay. No one but me's usually in here but... I think you'll be okay.”
I wondered what he meant by that but I decided not to ask. Instead I looked around. The walls were painted a beautiful red with black borders and thick, black curtains in the window. He explained those with a shrug and by saying, “I sleep during the morning usually.”
I nodded, of course, and continued to take in my new surroundings. The lampshade over the main light was darkened so the light wasn't so intense, almost mood-lighting. I suppressed a giggle. There was a bookshelf on one wall jam-packed full of books, a comfortable looking couch on the other. It seemed well-used. Perhaps a favourite reading spot.
Then I examined the bed. The covers I sat on were soft, some red but the fotted sheet and pillow were black. The pillows were big and puffy. The queen sized bed would have been disconcerting if it had just been me.
I smiled up at Erik, then realised he had been watching me intently. Trying to keep the smile on my face now that I suddenly felt nervous, I said, “it's wonderful. I wish I could do my place up like this.”
He tried to smile, but was obviously on edge. “Yeah, I play around with where everything is in this place, and the colour scheme, except this room.”
Safe haven. I didn't realise I'd said it out loud until I noticed the look of surprise on his face. I shifted uncomfortably.
“Exactly,” he said, “I'd ask why that's your first answer , but I'm pretty sure it'd just piss me off and make me want to hurt someone.” I tensed instinctively. “Not you,” he said hurriedly, “but whoever made those two things your natural reactions.” There was an odd glint in his eye I was nowhere near confident enough to explore right then. He looked me over, then raised an eyebrow at me. “Do you always sleep in your clothes?”
“No, but,” I trailed off. I had sleepwear, but no way in hell was I sleeping in my skivvies.
As if reading my mind again, he chuckled and went to the dresser that sat beside the bed and rummaged in the drawers. He pulled out a modest nightgown that looked like it would fit.
I raised an eyebrow at him, “I'm not even going to ask.”
He chuckled, “I prepare for the worst. You don't mind if I take my shirt and shoes off, do ya?”
I looked at his chest, blushed, and shook my head. “I want you to be comfortable in your own home.”
He smiled, handed me the nightgown, and kissed the top of my head. “I am , but I'll let you change in here.” He left, closing the door behind himself.
I tried not to dwell on how it felt to have him kiss my head, standing so close... I changed into the nightgown and folded my clothes, laying them on the couch. After fidgeting a bit in that nervous-perfectionist way I have, I opened the door and stared at my feet, my cheeks burning.
He said nothing for so long I got worried but suddenly he whistled. “That really suits you.”
I blushed harder, “you're just saying that because I'm paying you.”
He put his fingers under my chin and lifted it so I had to look at him. He was frowning, “I mean it, and I really wish you would stop thinking that of me...”
I sighed, “I'm sorry, I'm just not used to this,” I looked away as I spoke.
He released me and moved past me and into the room, “I know, and I thought we were the only ones who knew how that felt.”
As his voice trailed off I came up behind him and hugged him. “I'm sorry, I'm not trying to make you remember that stuff.”
He turned in surprise, then embraced me too. Nothing had ever felt so right in my life. His body, strong yet gentle, sheltering mine. “You're not bringing it back,” he said simply, bluntly, and surprisingly honestly, “it just never really goes away.” He pulled back and smiled, “but sometimes people like you help us cope.”
I returned his smile and he released me. He turned back the covers and climbed in, and I slowly followed. This was awkward for me, I wasn't used to sharing a bed with anyone let alone a handsome male I was attracted to. His chuckle pulled me from my thoughts.
“I won't bite, you know. I do bite, I just don't think you'd be into that,” he teased.
I realised there was a chasm between us and I blushed. “Maybe I would,” I tried teasing back as I slid closer, but I figured the blush ruined the effect. He grinned and pulled me into his arms. Again I was overwhelmed with a feeling of rightness, of belonging, and it scared me just as much as it thrilled me. I figured he must be able to feel my heart pounding if he couldn't hear it, but he didn't give anything away. I looked up at him and realised that he was, again, watching me.
I blushed even harder, “what?”
He smiled in a way I'd never seen before. He spoke softly, “nothing, you just seem as comfortable with this as I am, which is good. This feels strangely alright somehow... a rare feeling around other people for me.”
I nodded and cuddled closer, and after a moment I felt his hand on my head. My eyelids became heavier as he stroked my hair, breathing in his scent. He smelled masculine, but not in an unpleasant way. I found it a bit odd that he hadn't smelled like the cigarette he had been smoking when I bumped into him, not that I was complaining. When I was almost asleep, I felt his hand still and he kissed the top of my head.
“Goodnight Clara,” I barely heard him whisper, “and thank you.”