“No, he’s really that way.”
“So do you see a future with him?”
She scoffs. “It’s highly unlikely.”
“Then why bother?” I hand her down the burned out bulb.
“Why not?” she says. “He makes me feel great.”
I glance back up to focus on the work. Repositioning this dome back in place is much harder than it looks.
“Damn!”
“What?”
“I can’t get this heavy bastard aligned correctly.”
“I told you it was heavy.”
“You weren’t kidding. I’ve never seen a light with glass this thick. What the hell?”
“Believe me, if I could’ve done this myself I would.”
I peer down at her. I can tell she means it. “Well, I’m glad you didn’t. I’m surprised you sleep with this thing looming over you as it is. A lot of people would be in a state of terror every night. I mean what if the thing fell? It’d be certain death.”
“I like the thrill of uncertainty, and besides, I love the Venetian design.”
I roll my eyes. She loves the design. She won’t love it so much when it splits her head open.
I finally get the base screwed in and carefully pull my hands away to make sure it stays firm. I let out my breath when it remains in place, and I test it with a few attempts to jiggle it. It’s solid.
On the way back down the ladder I glance at Elle and realize I can see down her shirt. A real gentleman would turn away, but instead I lean forward to improve the angle of my view. Her breasts are noteworthy. I’d love to have my hands full of them.
I crane my neck out. My forward sway causes me to lose balance and a feeling of doom engulfs me. I’m going down.
A millisecond later she grabs me from behind. Her arms are wrapped around my thighs and her face pressed against my lower back.
“Whoa!” she exclaims.
I take a sharp breath as I grab onto the ladder and steady myself. When I’m finally down on the floor I turn toward her.
“Thanks.”
She looks up at me, and smiles. “Any time.”
I trace my finger under her chin as she gazes at me. Have I ever fully noticed how beautiful her big blue eyes are?
This woman.
“What?” She tips her head to the side.
“What do you mean what?”
“You look like you want to kiss me.”
“Hmmm.”
“So what are you waiting for?”
She wants me to cave in and break my promise to myself, but then what? I share her with Mr. Clean and the Tinder Posse? That’s not the relationship with the future mate I’ve been waiting for.
I pinch the ends of a lock of her hair between my fingers. “I don’t want to kiss you.”
“Are you sure?”
I stare at her lips. They are exquisitely, infinitely kissable. Of course I want to kiss her but I can’t tell her that.
“Yup.”
She inches closer to me, her breasts skimming my chest. I can feel the heat shimmer off her. “Really sure?”
I swallow hard. I stare at her as she waits for my response, and realize this is a defining moment between us. Am I going to surrender to my lust and accept from her what it is I really want? I can picture fucking her so vividly. I can even hear her moaning in my head. How bad would it really be for us to just own it and go at it until we’re satisfied? But would we ever really be satisfied or would it just be the beginning of my downward spiral into my obsessive ways?
My weakness fills me with shame and I turn away.
I notice her blinking rapidly as my rejection hits her. She’s out the bedroom door before I can even say anything. I find her in the kitchen.
“Elle?”
She’s taking the lasagna pan out of the refrigerator. She ignores me as she pulls out one of those plastic food storage things and slides several pieces of lasagna inside. The room is silent other than the popping sound of the top closing over the bottom of the container. She pushes the full plastic box toward me.
I clear my throat loudly and when she looks up I gesture toward her bedroom. “Hey, about what just happened.”
“Nothing happened.” There’s no tone or inflection in her voice.
“Look—”
She cuts me off. “So something’s just hit me, Paul.”
Stepping up to the kitchen island where she’s working, I tighten my fingers over the edge of the honed marble top.
“And . . .”
“I hate being rejected. Rejection makes me sad. And I lived through an entire marriage being rejected. So I really don’t need it from you.”
“I understand. I’m sorry I make you sad.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“I’ll leave now if you want me to.”
She nods. “Yeah, maybe you should.”
I feel unbelievably bad. I’m such an asshole. She deserves better.
“Okay. If that’s what you want.” I pick up my jacket. “Thanks for dinner.”
She points to the box. “That’s for you.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. You really seemed to like it.”
“I did. I like your lasagna a lot.”
She gives me a tiny smile.
“And I like you a lot.”
She arches her brow. “You like me? So what, you want to be friends?”
I nod.
“With no benefits?”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
She shakes her head and laughs. “What am I going to do with you? Well, let me think about that, okay?”
I smile. “Yeah. And I’m going to bring this plastic thing back when I’ve eaten all of this and make you laugh again.”
“And while you’re at it, bring my book back.”
“Torched? Did that book really get you off? I mean, that shit was crazy. Who talks like that in bed?”
“It totally got me off, and it will again as soon as you bring it back here.”
“Can you tell me what man speaks entire sentences when he’s fucking a hot woman?”
“Well apparently you don’t. But I’ll never know that for sure.” She winks at me and leads me to the hall. We’re almost to the front door when her doorbell rings.
“Expecting more company?” I ask.
She looks at me with wide eyes. “No.” She peeks out the door viewer and jumps back. “It’s Stephan! I thought he wasn’t coming tonight.”
“You want me to sneak out the back door?”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll introduce you. You can judge him for yourself.”
She opens the door. “Stephan!” she says like she’s thrilled to see him. She gives him a big hug. “I thought you said you weren’t coming!”
“I couldn’t stay away.”
She pulls the door open wider and when he comes in he looks up and our eyes meet. He’s taller than me and thinner. He’s blond and looks like an underfed Viking.
At least he’s not wearing a wifebeater and worn jeans. That would piss me off. Instead he’s wearing a black turtleneck.
Poser.
I wonder if he smokes a pipe.
I raise my hand in greeting. “Hey Stephan. I’m Paul. Elle’s told me all about you.”
She smiles and nods as he studies her. “Has she now?”
“Paul’s a friend of mine.”
“A good friend of hers,” I add.
“Really?” His gaze darts back and forth between us like he doesn’t know what to make of us.
“Yes, matter of fact I had an electrical problem and Paul came by to fix it for me.”
I nod. “Yes, her light bulb burned out.”
“Light bulb?”
The pipe-smoking Viking appears ruffled.
“Gee Elle, you struck me as the type of woman who could handle anything, certainly a burned out light bulb.” He gives me a wary look.
Ha! He’s suspicious of us now. I should feel bad for being delighted, but I don’t at all.
“Oh, Paul is only telling half the story. Aren’t you, Paul? The heavy hanging light fixture was the issue.” She punches me semi-playfully in the shoulder.
I nod. “Really heavy.”
“And as a matter of fact Paul was just leaving.”