Marcus
LYDIA SHOULD BE here any minute, and I’m running around like a chicken with my damn head cut off trying to pick up my shit and make it look clean. She messaged me at eight this morning and sprung this on me last minute. As soon as I told her I was free for the day, she told me she was already out and about and would be here in thirty minutes, so I wasn’t prepared. I haven’t talked to her since she was over here six days ago, so I wasn’t going to tell her no. And that’s why I’m breaking a sweat, trying to make it look like I’m not the stereotypical, sloppy bachelor.
The doorbell rings, stopping me in my tracks. I survey the area quickly, pleased with what I accomplished in thirty minutes. With a deep breath to calm myself down after running around frantically, I walk to the door and let her in.
“Hey,” I greet her with a smile.
“Hey.” She looks up at me from beneath her eyelashes before readjusting the things she’s carrying.
“Oh! Let me get some of that for you.” I’m such an idiot. Here she is about to drop all this shit and I’m just standing here like a douche. Way to score some points, Marcus.
“Thanks.” I step aside to allow her in and can’t help but look at her ass when she walks by. She’s wearing some tight, black athletic pants that leave little to the imagination. I can see every line of her hip and the cup of her ass. I guess she goes more casual on the weekends, not that I’m complaining. I kick the door closed with my foot and follow her into the living room.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll just set up shop in the living room and get started,” she says.
“I don’t mind at all. Make yourself comfortable and use whatever you need,” I tell her. She responds with an appreciative smile.
“Some clients are really . . . particular. They don’t want to see the mess or be bothered with the process, so I usually remove things like this from the home and work on it at the office.” That’s interesting. She usually does this off-site, but didn’t even give me the option. I wouldn’t have let her work on this at her office, but the fact that she didn’t want to gives me hope.
“You don’t have to worry about that with me. You can come over as often as you need.” She pauses and stares at me for a moment and I wonder if I went a little too far. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy having her here, even if it’s only been three times now, but who’s counting?
She gets right to work by sliding the chair out from the corner and removing the seat cushion. I sit on the couch behind her and enjoy watching her work. I can hear her humming softly to herself, breaking up the silence. I like it. I like her.
“Can I help?” I offer up. As much as I enjoy watching her bend over and such, I feel a little useless just sitting here doing nothing.
She looks over her shoulder. “If you want to learn how to reupholster furniture, sure,” she says with a shrug. “I could use some help.”
I get up from my spot and walk to her. “This,” she says as she holds up a staple gun, “is your new best friend. Other than the fabric and sewing machine, it’s the key to making this happen.”
“Got it.”
“Since you chose a solid fabric to match the couches, this will be pretty simple. The hardest part will be the arms, so we’ll start there first.”
“Got it,” I say again.
She drapes, sketches an outline on the fabric, and pins it, and I’m not any more helpful beside her than I was on the couch. Only now, I’m holding the stapler like a tool. I lean in, pretending to get a better look at what she’s doing, but really I just want to be closer to her. Her vanilla scent hits my nose and it takes everything in me not to bury my face in her neck right now.
I’m not sure how much time goes by, and I don’t really care. As I wait for her to tell me what to do, we ease into conversation. Even though we talk about nothing important, it’s still nice to see her relax around me while she works. After she gets the arms sewn together, she gestures for me to come closer to show me a simpler task I can complete. Her scent messes with my head being this close. All I want to do is take a taste and see if she tastes as sweet as she smells.
“Alright, this is where you come in,” she says, pulling me from my thoughts. “I’m going to hold this tight, and you staple it to the bottom so that it’s hidden by the cushion.”
“I think I can handle that.”
We work together seamlessly until the project is done. Standing back, I admire our handiwork, pleased with the outcome. “It looks like a brand new chair,” I say.
“It’s almost like magic.” Her whole face is lit up and I can tell this is definitely her passion. And it should be. She’s amazing at this. “This was one of the more difficult pieces to recover. The chairs at your kitchen island and dining room table would be way easier if you ever wanted to re-fabric them. You just pop off the seat cushion, remove the old, and staple on the new. Takes just a few minutes and no sewing.”
“You’ll have to come over and show me how one day,” I offer as I rub the back of my neck.
“Yeah, maybe.” She looks away and back at the chair.
An awkward silence falls over us and I hate it. I search my brain for something—anything to say, but nothing comes to me.
“Do you mind if I use your restroom?” she asks.
“Sure, just go around that corner and down the hall. It’s the last door on the left.” I point in the direction she needs to go. With a tight smile, she turns around and disappears out of sight.
I pace the room and run my hands through my hair. I’m at a crossroads and I don’t know which way to turn. Do I go for it again, or keep hanging back and try to play it cool? The playing it cool method is damn near killing me. I want her so damn bad it hurts. And not just physically, although visions of her naked roll through my mind constantly. No, I want all of her. I like her drive, her passion, her intelligence, her humor. I like it all.
I want it all.
Time to make my last move. With renewed purpose, I make my way toward the bathroom so we can get this sorted once and for all when she’s done. As I’m rounding the corner, I run right into her. She yelps in surprise and almost falls over, but I’m able to wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to me, keeping her from tipping backward.
Every inch of her front is pressed against me. It’s the closest I’ve been to her since we were dancing together at that bar three months ago. I can’t tell if it’s my heart beating that I feel, or hers, but I swear we both stop breathing as we stare into each other’s eyes.
Surprisingly, she’s the first to crack, grabbing my face in both hands and sealing her lips against mine. Within seconds, I’m taking the lead and pushing her up against the closest wall. My tongue darts out and touches her lips and without hesitation, she opens up for me. Nothing has tasted as sweet as she does and I swear I’ve gone to heaven. She makes me see lights and feel it all the way in my damn toes.
All of our frustrations, pent-up tension, and longing are released in this moment. This kiss is hard, it’s frantic, it’s all consuming. I’m lost in her and I never want to be found. But before we get too carried away, I want to make sure we’re both on the same page and this isn’t some lapse in judgment for her.
Slowing the kiss, I give her a quick peck on the lips and another on the nose. “We need to slow down a minute,” I say breathlessly.
She swallows hard and nods.
I cage her in between my arms so she has no choice but to look at me and answer my next question. “What’s going on here?”
A flash of panic crosses her face as if she just realized what we were doing. Her mouth opens and closes a couple times, but no explanation follows.
I let out a sigh before speaking. “Look, I know I’ve done some . . . unconventional things as a way to see you, but I’m not into playing games. You know I want you. I’ve made no secret about that. What I can’t figure out is that I get the feeling you want me too. I mean, am I delusional? Am I imagining all of that?” She looks down and shakes her head. Tilting her head back up with my finger, I say, “What’s holding you back? Just be honest with me. That’s all I ask.”
Unlike with our kiss, there’s a great amount of hesitation and I see the internal debate written all over her face as she searches my eyes. I hold her gaze confidently, hoping she’ll trust me enough to open up.
She closes her eyes on an exhale. “I haven’t been with a man in over a year. I don’t date. I don’t give out my number. It’s just me and my cat, and I like it that way. There’s no obligation, no complication.” She stops for a second. “No chance of getting hurt.”
I want to know what happened to her and who’s the bastard that made her put up these walls, but I don’t want to dig too deep today.
I lean back and hold her hands in mine. “There’s so much we don’t know about each other, but I want to change that. Is it a risk? Yes, every relationship starts out that way. Take the risk with me, Lydia. The biggest ones often lead to the best rewards.”
I think an hour goes by before she responds. “Okay.”
I blink a few times, not sure I heard her right. “Okay?”
She nods. “Yeah, I’ll take the risk with you.”
I’m smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pick her up and kiss the hell out of her. Soon, I set her back down. “You better get out of here before I do bad things to you,” I whisper in her ear. I’m satisfied when goose bumps spread down her neck. My self-control is only so strong when all I want to do is pin her up against this wall and fuck her until she can’t walk. Her face turns red as she bites her lip to hide her smile. “I’ll call you later,” I say as she grabs her stuff and I adjust the painful hard-on in my pants.
“Alright. Talk to you soon, Marcus.”
And then she’s gone.
Time to ice the balls again.