Lola

After we finish the best dinner I’ve had in years—maybe ever—I help Fox clean up and bring everything back up to his apartment. He’s making coffee and I’m sitting on his couch waiting. I can’t believe I’m at Fox’s apartment. It’s surreal. This is not where I thought I’d be when I woke up this morning. I wonder if he’ll try to seduce me. What bullshit line will he feed me to get me naked?

I’m trying to remain in control of my nerves. It’s been a long time since I’ve been out with a man.

Something touches the side of my face and I look around. He’s smiling at me from the island in his kitchen, his forearms resting against the thick butcher block countertop. With a dip of his chin he gestures to the floor. I look down and then a huge smile immediately spreads across my face.

A paper plane is on the floor just like earlier. I bend down, pick it up, and open it. Ack…this is the second time he’s done this and it’s so damn cute. But I don’t want him to be cute. I want sexy.

Written on the plane is this: Why are you so nervous?

My brows furrow. I look over my shoulder expecting him to still be in the kitchen but he’s right behind me now. The thick hair I love is sticking up as if he’s been running his fingers through it. His eyes narrow on me, intensely. As if he’s waiting for an answer. Damn, he’s so hot.

“I’m not nervous,” I say.

“Liar.” He runs his thumb across my lip and then I realize I’ve been biting it, an old habit of mine.

“Tell me. We’ve already spilled all our secrets, may as well get it all out in the open,” he says.

“I just…I just haven’t done this in a long time.”

“Done what, exactly?”

“Been on a couch with a guy wondering happens next.”

He leans over the back of his sofa and does something that should feel intimidating but instead makes me feel oddly safe and sensual. He gently, yet firmly, grips my throat with his hand, forcing my head back onto the sofa. He moves down toward my lips, his eyes blazing. I can’t look away. Impulsively I hold his wrist—it makes me feel in control, although I’m not—not even a little bit. But he is not deterred in the least bit by my hesitation. And even when his lips touch mine, in this backward, upside down, kiss, I can’t look away. His eyes are shut and his tongue presses against my lips coercing them open. He squeezes a little bit on my throat and that earns him a moan from me. One I didn’t even see coming and a jolt of excitement runs down my spine. This is exactly want I want. What I need. A man that knows what he’s doing. A man that can take the lead and give me great mind-blowing sex for a few months, a man who’ll let me be myself. I don’t even know what “myself” is when it comes to sex. But he can teach me.

When he finally loosens his grip, I turn around so that I’m on my knees and the back of the couch is between us. “I guess you don’t have to wonder anymore,” he says with eyes full of intensity. I place my hand over his heart. I want to hear him so badly, and I know feeling the vibrations when he speaks or when he makes a noise is the closest I’ll get.

I lick the edge of his lips and I can feel his body tremble as if he’s growling. It’s titillating. I haven’t felt this way in so long, I almost forgot what it’s like to feel desired. He nips at the tip of my tongue and I almost come undone, but he pulls away leaving me breathless and empty. He takes my face in his hands. “You really are a little tiger, aren’t you, Lola?” I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I don’t care. I want more kisses. “I think it’s time I take you home,” he says.

Playfully, he bites my bottom lip. I didn’t even realize I’d been pouting. “Don’t tempt me too much. I may not be able to control myself.” He gives me a final kiss on the lips and reaches for my hand to help me up.

“I don’t want to go yet,” I whine.

He chuckles—I can tell by the way his chest moves and the way his lips curve. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”

“You are such a tease, Fox.”

I realize I’m signing while I talk; it’s a habit, so I clench my fists to stop myself.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t kiss you again tonight and I already fucked up. Let’s get out of here before I get you naked.” It’s a statement and it’s firm and decisive and leaves no room for fuss or for questioning. He takes my hand in his—it’s big and it swallows mine up. It’s also warm and I want to feel it all over my body. I almost cry in desperation. He must think I’ll mind if he gets me naked. He wants to be a gentleman? After that kiss? Why can’t he just be a jerk and try to get into my pants?

“I hope we can do it again.”

“Yeah, me too.” I sigh, more sexually frustrated than ever before.

Fox

I’m driving Lola home and as I glance over at her, she’s biting the side of her nail nervously. Maybe she regrets the kiss(es), now that she’s had a chance to think about it. It was intense and I’m still fighting off the hard-on that doesn’t want to go away. Or maybe she really didn’t want to stop? Although, I doubt that. She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl that sleeps with a guy on the first date. Was this even a date?

But as I get closer to her neighborhood I realize why she’s nervous. She’s either ashamed of where she lives or she’s scared to go home. If I lived here, I’d be scared for my life too, and I’m a big guy who can easily defend myself. This is the worst area in Miami. Why does she live here? I don’t want to embarrass her by asking but I know she makes a pretty decent living at Panic plus she has that second job. This is a pay-by-the-day or maybe by-the-hour kind of apartment complex.

“You can park right here.” She points to an empty spot at the curb in front of the building, a few feet away from a group of men loitering around the corner. I hop out of the car but by the time I go around to open her door, she’s already out.

“Thanks for the ride,” she says.

“You’re welcome.”

She just stands there, looking at me expectantly. “Uh, well, okay, bye.”

“I’m walking you to your apartment, Lola.”

She’s still biting her nail and looks over her shoulder then back at me. “It’s okay, really.”

I take her hand in mine. “I’m sure it’s okay.” Not mentioning the obvious. That it’s not okay. That I hate that she lives here. Shit, I’d hate for anyone to live here, which is ironic because it’s almost identical to the neighborhood I grew up in. “But I’d like to walk you to your door.”

She nods shyly and leads me to a small metal gate by an empty pool and rusted lounge chairs. This is just unsafe; there are unsavory people everywhere. Then we get to another metal gate, this one heavy, and she opens it, the hinges creaking in the process. We walk into a staircase, the heavy door slamming loudly behind me. She doesn’t even flinch. “Be careful,” she says. “The lights aren’t working.”

I can’t see in front of me. How the hell does she do this every single day?

When we get to the second floor, she opens yet another metal door and then her apartment is the first door to the left.

She already has her keys in her hand, I assume out of self-preservation or habit. She looks around a few times before opening the door. At least she’s vigilant of her surroundings, I think to myself.

Once the door is open, she turns around to say goodbye, again trying to hurry me off. But I’m not having it. I want to see where she lives. Get to know more about her. I follow her in, which forces her to move back, and then close the door behind me. She’s worrying her nails again but she doesn’t say anything. She just looks at me…waiting.

“I appreciate you driving me home. I didn’t really feel like taking three buses to get here at this time.”

I turn so that she can see me, and tuck a long thick chunk of hair behind her ear. “It’s no problem, Lola.”

Again, there’s silence and it’s deafening as I look around her small apartment. I’m struck by all the colors. I see lamp shades with scarves on them, colorful mismatched chairs and a bright table.

“Go ahead. Say it,” she blurts out, and it startles me. She looks completely defeated.

“Say what?”

“Whatever you’re thinking. Say it.”

“That is the ugliest fucking lamp I’ve ever seen.” It’s green and hideous.

She rolls her eyes. “That’s not what you’re thinking.” She lets out a breath. “My apartment? The neighborhood?”

“Why do you live in a motel, Lola?”

“It’s not a motel.”

“It’s not a home either.”

“I’m saving.”

“Nothing’s worth you living in this shithole.”

“Don’t be a jerk. I’ll be out of here soon. Living here is a small sacrifice. I know it’s nothing compared to your beautiful white apartment but it’s just a place to crash. Not all of us are as fortunate as you are.”

Fortunate? Did she not hear me when I said I grew up in a shitty little town in Detroit? “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re right. I don’t. And neither do you. Wherever you grew up wasn’t as bad as a foster home from hell, trust me,” she says, her hand on her waist. She’s being really defensive. Just like I thought earlier, when she feels she has to explain herself, she gets prickly.

Unfortunately, so do I.

“Oh, we’re comparing crappy childhoods now?” I shake my head and let out a big breath. “I’m sorry I called this place a shithole. But I know firsthand how it feels to live in a place like this.”

“It is a shithole. I don’t disagree. But I’m proud that I’m almost done with school and that I’ve been able to do it all on my own. I don’t need anyone trying to push me down when all I’m trying to do is better my situation.”

“I’m not pushing you down. I can’t help feeling protective about your safety. I’m sorry it came out like I’m an asshole. But, you’ve done nothing but surprise me tonight. You’re by far the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and the fact that you’re in school and paying for it yourself is unbelievable.” I take a step closer and she closes her eyes. I chuckle and kiss her cheek softly as her eyes flutter open.

“I’m sorry if I get a little defensive. Be patient with me,” she says, and I’m surprised she admits that. “I’m not used to being questioned or having to show anyone where I live. You’re the first one who’s been here, actually.”

“I’m nothing but patient,” I say. “Just…let me in. Don’t keep fighting me at every turn.”

“You’re in, see?” she says, and points to her apartment and I roll my eyes.

“Not what I meant and you know it.”

She smiles softly, tenderly, and with a small breath. “I know and I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask, Lola.” And it’s true. I don’t need her to give me everything, I just need her guard down enough that I can seize the rest. I won’t hurt her, but we’ll never get to where she’ll trust me if she won’t give me the chance to show her. “Good night, Tiger.”

“Good night, Fox.”

“Close the door behind me, yeah?”

“I will. And, Fox, thanks…for everything tonight.”

I leave and it feels strange. We didn’t exactly make plans for another date even though we did say we would hang out again. My mind is all over the place, as the metal door slams shut behind me with a loud whoosh. I think about all the noise she must get from being this close to the staircase. But then I remember she can’t hear so she probably hasn’t realized what a shitty apartment she has in this majorly shitty place. Then I recall our kiss and think about how I want to kiss her again. Over and over.

Why the hell didn’t we make plans for a second date?