“Definitely, I’m starving.”
So am I, but not for the same thing she is.
“Take a seat.” I pull the chair out for her and let her sit before reaching for the wine and pouring her a glass. “I thought it about time that I invited you ‘round. Don’t get me wrong, I like going out places with you, but there’s a lot to be said for relaxing at home with a good bottle of red and great company.”
“I agree, and from what I can see, your apartment is beautiful. You’ll have to give me the full tour after dinner.”
The only place I want to tour is her body as it lies naked in my bed, but I don’t want to push my luck, so instead I smile and nod.
“You know, this place is exactly as I imagined,” she says, taking a sip of her wine and smirking at me. Damn it drives me crazy when she narrows those huge eyes at me like that.
“Really?” I ask
“Sure, you’re always impeccably turned out. Your sandy hair never looks out of place, your tie’s never crooked. I just knew that your home would be the same, all clean, minimalist lines. It’s masculine and modern and just so—I don’t know—you, I guess. Put together. I bet if I opened up your pantry all the cans would be neatly stacked with the labels facing out.”
“You think you have me pegged?” I ask.
“Pretty much, yeah. Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenges.
“You’re wrong.”
“Really?”
“No,” I laugh. “You’re spot on with your assessment. I like simplicity in my home life. I deal with enough complexity at work. I like things to be orderly and neat; it saves time and energy.”
“I think I’m probably your worst nightmare, then,” she says, taking another drink and forcing my eyes to her mouth. God, that mouth.
“I like the idea of being all tidy and organized, but it’s not me. I’m a messy person in general. I’m always juggling everything, I feel too confined if everything is regimented. I think that’s why I love dance so much. It’s freedom of expression.”
“You know what they say about opposites though…maybe you’re the yin to my yang?”
She almost spits her wine back into her glass and places it down on the dark wooden table.
“You remember that time you said I could call you out if you said anything cheesy and tell you to shut the hell up?” She has one eyebrow raised and I can’t contain my laughter.
“You’re killing my game here. I’m trying to woo you, woman. Shut up and swoon already!”
That earns me a heart-stopping smile, and although I said it in jest, I’m not really joking.
We finished a couple of bottles of red with dinner, and now we’re laid out on my sofa watching some old black and white movie that has Robyn giggling to herself every few minutes. I can’t bring myself to watch the movie when all I want to do is watch her.
“Stay the night?” I know she’ll tell me no, but I want her to stay so badly it almost hurts.
“What?” she asks, turning from the screen and looking back at me.
“Stay, don’t go home tonight. Spend the night here with me?”
The amount of hope that my request is dripping with should embarrass me. I sound needy; I don’t think I’ve ever sounded so needy in my whole life. It’s not a concept that I’m used to. I’m not accustomed to being the person doing the chasing, and I’ve always been able to pick and choose. It sounds like a horrendously obnoxious thing to say, but it’s the truth.
She scoots up the sofa so she’s sitting and looking at me. She looks unsure of herself and chews the corner of her lip as she watches me.
“I-I don’t, I’m not…” She’s stammering and stalling. Not exactly the response I was hoping for.
“I’m not asking for sex, although I wouldn’t decline it.” I wink. “I just want to fall asleep with you here with me.” God, if my friends could hear me now. I sound so fucking desperate, but I am.
She moves closer and places her soft lips over mine. Finally, I think as my entire body feels like it’s been ignited. I smile against her mouth, lifting my hands and pushing them through her thick silky hair. I let my tongue slide into her mouth and pull her in closer to me, intensifying the kiss. Her hands run from my shoulders across my chest, then slip slowly down over the ridges of my abs. Her hands leave a fiery trail, and I can’t hold back any longer. I want those hands lower; I need to feel them on me, all of me. I pull her into my lap, straddling me, never breaking our kiss, and begin running my hands up and down her arched back. She’s into this; her little moans and constant squirming against me as she rubs herself over my thighs confirm it. I don’t know what to do with my hands first, which place I want to explore. I need to see and touch and taste all of her. The tiny little sounds she’s making are driving me insane. I swear, I could probably get off from just the sound of her. I grab her ass and pull her into me hard, letting her feel my erection as it presses into her stomach and making sure she knows what she’s doing to me.
“Cole,” she exhales against my mouth, and I grind against her at the sound of my name in that ridiculously sexy breathy low voice.
Her hands push against my chest, and her mouth leaves mine. I hate the loss of it instantly.
“I can’t, I need to stop…I should go.”
“What? Why?” I sit up a little straighter and run my hand down my face.
Is she serious right now?
“I don’t know…I want to spend the night, but as soon as I take this next step, I can’t go back. I like how we are at the moment and I’m not quite ready to complicate things yet. Not ‘til I have my ducks in a row, and I know that sounds like a stupid excuse. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes are huge and doe-like. She’s flushed and disheveled and completely gorgeous. I don’t understand why she wants to pull away. Why she kisses me like she wants me more than her next breath and then suddenly detaches herself and retreats.
“Please don’t.” I sound pathetic even to my own ears, and I pull my hands down her arms, hoping that she’ll give in and change her mind.
She doesn’t.
I feel like shit as she moves from my lap and takes a step back, smoothing her wrinkled dress and taking a deep breath. I watch like I’m somehow detached from my body, unable to make myself move at the crushing disappointment that she’s pulling away again. There’s got to be something more than just wanting time. We’ve spent plenty of nights getting to know each other, I know the attraction is there, and she knows my intentions. I couldn’t make it any more fucking obvious that I want her if I painted it in goddamn red paint across my forehead.
“Is there something more to all this that I’m missing? You’re blowing hot one minute and then cold the next and I have no fucking clue how to take it, Robyn. I asked you to spend the night with me, I’ve made it clear that I don’t even expect anything sexual, and you still say no. Why? Are you seeing someone else, is that it?”
“No! I don’t know what you expect me to tell you, Cole. I’m not ready, I’m sorry.” She looks upset, and guilt floods me. I lean over and pull her into a hug.
“Don’t be, there’s nothing to be sorry about,” I tell her as I press a kiss to the top of her head. There’s something more to this, I know it. The way her eyes shot to the floor before she answered me screams that she’s holding back and hiding something.
“You want me to call you a cab?”
She nods with a weak smile on her lips, and it feels like a kick in the balls, but I take it. I have too much self-respect not to. I grab my cell and call her a cab, because despite the fact that I want her in every way a person can want someone, it needs to be a two-way thing and at the moment, it’s not.
The lawyer in me will find out why.