Kim

By the time I get to Grey's on Thursday afternoon, I'm nervous like I'm about to pitch an article idea to the old school decision makers in London or New York. I even put on a pair of tight jeans, wore heels and did my makeup. But Tank isn't there when I arrive. Again. Guess I was right about him not keeping promises worth a damn after all.

Today's meeting is in the cafeteria, since last week's was a formal welcoming to the fundraising committee and now we're gonna start getting down to business. So it's really too bad that I can't concentrate on what's being said, because all I'm thinking about Tank is not showing up. By the time the door opens in the middle of the meeting and he walks in, I've pretty much given up hope that he'll show up. He stays by the door, but it's very hard to ignore his gaze for the rest of the meeting. It feels like a fire is raging just to my left.

But after the meeting, it becomes apparent that I wasn't the only one who was looking forward to seeing him again.

"Last week, you said you'd be coming around more often from now on, Tank," one fundraiser lady— Celia, I think—croons as I approach to say hello. She's over forty, has to be since her daughter who's living here is Benji's age, but she looks younger, which really annoys me right now.

Tank winks at me over her shoulder, even as he gives her a wide smile.

"I'm here today," he tells her and leaves it at that. It's the complete truth.

"And so is Kim," he adds, looking at me and holding my gaze, completely ignoring Celia. I don't think I've ever been looked at quite as intensely as he's doing it right now. I feel like he can see past all the crud that's accumulated around me over the years and sees me. The me that I am, not the one I show people. Damn, but he really makes me think the oddest things.

"Well, you've missed quite a lot this week," Celia says, her eyes shooting daggers in my direction even though she's still smiling. "But we could really use your help setting up the backdrops for the play."

"Yes, we really could," Jessica chirps from behind my back then walks up to him and runs her hand down his bicep. "They're really heavy, but I'm sure you'll have no trouble lifting them."

I don't like that she's touching him, and I don't like that he's smiling while she does it. But he's still got eyes only for me, so that makes my annoyance bearable. But I also can't help wondering if he's already fucked all the rest of them and I'm just a conquest-in-waiting, since I’m the new girl. Maybe that's why he's looking at me the way he is. Maybe it has nothing to do with his irresistible urge to be with me and only me. But does that even matter? I don't have to be his only one.

"Sure, you just tell me what you need," he says and pulls his arm from Jessica's grasp. And she's about to, but he walks away before she can get the first word out, and comes to tower over me, stopping much closer than is decent. So close I can smell his manly, musky smell that makes me think of sitting in front of a fire in a log cabin with the snow falling softly outside. Damn, but I like the way I hold his attention, like the way he has mine. It makes me feel drunk, but in a clear-headed way. Which makes no sense either, but feels very good.

"Did you miss me too, Kim?" he asks, grinning at me. He takes another step closer. We were already improperly close before, but I so want him to take that final step and kiss me again. There's only one answer to his question, and it's yes, but I have more self-respect than that.

"Well, I missed you," he says, his blue eyes sparkling like the sun's first rays washing over the ocean. "More than I thought I would."

"You said soon," I hear my voice say.

"A week is soon," he counters.

Not soon enough. I was beginning to think you wouldn't be coming at all. Thankfully, I don't say those things. But I can't find anything else to say either. So I'm kinda just staring at him with my mouth slightly open like I'm about to speak, but really I'm just drowning in the sun kissed waters of his gaze.

"Come on, Tank, I'll show you what we need done to the stage," Jessica says rather harshly, wrapping her arm under his and breaking the spell he has me under.

She begins leading him away and he lets her.

"We could go for a drink after," I say, much too loudly apparently, because half the room turns to gawk at me.

He actually laughs at that. "You got it, Kim."

Then he lets Jessica drag him out of the room, leaving me standing by the food table, my cheeks burning and my hands shaking. I've asked guys out before, but the only time I've ever yelled it for a whole room to hear was when I asked Bradley, the quarterback to the prom in my junior year of high school. I was so nervous about it, prepped for it for three whole days, but when the time to finally do it came, I ended up shouting it at his back as he was leaving. He didn't even laugh. Just looked back and ignored me. But that unfortunate incident haunted me for the rest of high school, and I didn't dare ask another guy out for years afterwards.

I hope this doesn't end up another such joke.

* * *

"I thought they were never gonna let you go," I say to his back as he exits the building. I'm the one waiting for him tonight, and the fact that this is the exact reverse of the scene from the other night, when he asked me for a drink, isn't lost on me. But I think it’s fitting, not weird and forced at all.

He spins around, already smiling as the ocean waves of his gaze envelop me. "Yeah, they tend to get overzealous about needing my help. But I'm all yours now. Where are you taking me?"

Even as he says it I know I'm in no way in control of any of this.

"Anywhere but the place we went to the other night," I say. "They'll all be there."

His smile gets even wider. And deadlier. I bet the other ladies who volunteer here are always overzealous around him. I bet all women he meets anywhere are, if he looks at them the way he's looking at me right now. I’m overzealous too, and I'm never this smitten by guys. Hell, I can't even follow my own train of thought right now, and it's getting worse the longer he stares at me. And he knows it too. That's a knowing grin on his face as much as anything else.

"Come on, I know just the place," he says and strides to his bike, expecting me to follow, but not even checking if I am.

I am.

Although…

"Don't I need a helmet or something?" I ask as he straddles his bike and taps the space behind him.

"I don't plan on crashing," he says. "Get on."

I'm all out of arguments. Mostly because this moment has featured prominently in my fantasies this past week. So I don't argue, just settle behind his back, and wrap my legs around his hips. Our thighs are pressed together, the hard muscles of his unyielding under the softness of mine. The reality is better than the fantasy. Especially once I wrap my arms around his waist. He's so wide my arms barely reach. But that is far from a problem, since it’s giving me an excuse to get as close as I can.

"Ready?" he asks, and I whisper a yes in answer, since my lips are close enough to his ear to be heard if I do that. I feel the warmth of his skin on my lips, and he tenses in my arms, so I know that the desire he wakes in me is not lost on him.

The bike roars to life beneath me, the vibrations of the powerful engine coursing through me like the bass tones at a concert, only purer, unspoiled by all those other useless notes.

I actually let out a roar of my own as he accelerates down the quiet, empty street, that has taken me home to my empty apartment every night this week. Not how it's going down tonight, I tell myself as I lean my head back and let my hair trail behind me in the wind. He accelerates even more, until I feel the roar of his bike in every crevice of my body, shaking me apart, cracking me open, letting light and life in. I've never ridden on the back of a Harley before, and this might be the only time that I do, so I'm gonna make the most of it. I’ll also do all those other things I imagined might be fun to do all week.

But the ride's over much too soon, as he pulls up in front of a low, dark building that looks to be closed for business. But the parking lot is full of trucks and bikes, so I suppose, I'm wrong.

I don't want to let go of him even once we're fully stopped and he's turned off the engine.

"You enjoyed that ride," he says twisting around so he can look at me.

Way too much.

I let go of him and climb off, the engine's roar still vibrating through my body.

"We should do that more often," I say without thinking as he gets off too, and get a very incredulous grin in return.

"You have missed me," he observes. "Even more than I hoped you would."

Maybe it's hearing that he thought of me missing him this last week, or maybe it just how his eyes seem to see me and only me, or maybe it's the two vodkas I drank before the meeting to calm my nerves. But his words cause desire of the kind I've not felt before to bubble in my belly like lava.

"I kinda miss the spitfire you were the other night though," he adds.

"What? You liked me breaking your balls?"

He snorts at that. "Breaking balls? I thought only old men said that."

"I work with old men who still say it," I explain, feeling my cheeks redden again. "I need a drink. Let's go in."

If I don't drink something to calm my nerves, I'll just keep saying wrong and dumb things over and over again, until he decides I'm insane.

"I do like it," he whispers into my ear as I pass him to enter, sending a torrent of shivers down my back.

It's not even nine PM, and the bar is way more crowded than I expected it to be. The loud music blasts right through me as we walk in, and the people inside look like the kind that are used to partying all day and all night. The women are mostly in short tight dresses, the men dressed like Tank, but I don’t think this is a full-on biker club. It feels and looks too lively and comfortable for that.

The place is also filled with smoke even though smoking inside has been outlawed in California for decades. Tank lights a cigarette as soon as we reach the bar, and before he orders us beers and two scotches without consulting me first. Normally, I'd mind a date just assuming what I'm gonna have and ordering for me. But right now, I'm flattered that he remembered what I had last time, and like that he didn't bother with the pleasantries of asking me what I wanted. That he just took charge. I don't hang out with guys who can do that this smoothly and effectively.

"So, where were you all week?" I ask after I take a good long swig of my scotch. "The car shop keeping you busy?"

He looks at me for a few seconds, grinning until I'm sure he hasn't heard my question.

"I was at a car show in Chicago," he answers just as I'm about to ask again.

"I'd love to see your work sometime," I say.

He's leaning with his back against the bar and I'm standing in front of him, so my arm brushed his as I set down my scotch to pick up my beer. I’m pretty sure that made both of us shiver.

"Sure, I can show you some of my creations," he says.

"I wrote an article on people's fascination with old cars once, years ago," I tell him. "It was just a short one, more of a blog post really."

There's a lull in the music, during which he just stares at me, until I pretty much forget where I was going with this line of conversation. Or why I'm trying to have one at all. I wish he'd just grab me and kiss me, and finally break this tension between us that’s making my skin bristle like I'm standing too close to a fire.

"Then you must know all about old cars," he says and sets his glass on the bar.

He reaches out and pulls me to him, holding me tight against his body. I actually sigh in relief, but it doesn't last, because now I can feel his hard cock against my stomach and the tension that brings won't get release until we're naked and alone.

"I love this song," he says. "Wanna dance?"

"To this?" I ask. Some loud and angry heavy metal song is playing and I have no idea how to even begin dancing to it. " Or do you just mean that we're done talking?"

I laugh at my own joke, which is something I always do when I'm tense or nervous.

His hand slips down past my lower back, coming to rest on my ass, as he brushes a strand of my hair behind my ear. And just like that I'm not nervous anymore. I can feel his raging hard-on twitch through the thick fabric of his jeans as I lean my head into his palm.

"You know, I couldn't close my eyes without seeing your flaming red hair all week," he says, squeezing my ass and pulling me even closer against his cock. "So, yeah, I didn't come up with a whole lot of things to say to you. But do, that's a different story."

And there he goes taking my breath again. I've never been spoken to like that. Never had a man admit so freely that he wants me naked. Didn't think I'd like it, but I do. Oh, boy, do I like it.

"So let's dance," I say and it comes out hoarse and cracked.

He barely lets go of me as I lead us away from the bar to the cleared area that's meant for dancing. A few other couples are swaying to the music, not using it to dance to, just using it as an excuse to hold each other tight. So I ignore it too, just let my desire to be close to him guide my movements. And with both his arms around me, my body knows exactly what to do to get closer, even as my mind has no idea what I'm doing.

He's so strong, and so tall, and so wide, and so damn hot. I've seen and done a lot of things in my life, but I've never felt quite as alive or free as I do right now. And I've certainly never found any of that in a guy before. It makes no sense that this stranger I've barely spoken to twice makes me feel that for the first time. Nothing about this does. But it doesn't have to. Not as long as it feels this good.

This might be the first one-night stand that I actually wholeheartedly enjoy. It won't be much more than that. How can it be? I'm going back to New York soon, and he's in no way the right guy for me. Except in this desire he wakes inside me. He's perfect for me in that.

I don't know how many songs play as we sway to the music, his hard unyielding body pressed against mine, rigid in all the ways mine is soft, pliant in all the ways mine is hard.

"You wanna get out of here?" he asks hoarsely after awhile and even his voice sounds like it was meant to be heard only by me. It makes no sense, but I've never wanted to be with a man the way I want to be with him. Alone. Naked.

So there really is only one answer.

"Yes."