Authors: Audrey Carlan
I nod, not sure how to keep up the sparring. Every bit of his essence exudes confidence and control and I’m wilting under the pressure of being near him. He’s the sexy Superman, but it seems as if he’s becoming my kryptonite.
“In answer to your question, I bought you a drink so I could get to know you better. “
My insides quiver as his gaze skims my face, then moves down, landing on my chest. I’m so thankful I wore the tight tank top under the blazer. It accentuates my breasts, yet leaves just enough to the imagination. Thank you, ‘What Not to Wear’ for the fitted jacket and sexy tank technique.
I lick my lips and bite the bottom one, trying to decide what to say or do next. He inhales, and I see the rise and fall of his wide chest. Those blue eyes swirl with color and dilate. “What’s your name?” he asks.
“Gillian Callahan, but my friends call me Gigi.”
“I will call you Gillian or Miss Callahan.” He clasps my hand and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “Pet names are earned. I prefer to choose my own.” His husky tone sends bouts of pure lust twisting and curling in rivulets through me.
Jesus, this man is sex incarnate. It oozes through his words, the twinkle in his eyes, and the sly grin attached to a delectable pair of lips. I want to kiss, bite, and savor those lips. In that order. He yanks at his tie and pulls the knot free entirely. With a flick of his fingers, he undoes the top two buttons at the collar, exposing a nice tanned piece of flesh. I lean closer to him, my eyes riveted to that speck of flesh. Desperately, I want to reach out and give it a lick. Just a quick little taste. That’s all I’d need.
“You like what you see, Gillian?”
Before my brain connects and filters my reply, I nod dumbly. With the full spirit of a teenaged girl with a crush, the lame, drawn out response slips out, “God, yes.”
“Mmm, I’m so glad. Shall we continue this conversation somewhere else?” His eyes go from Caribbean blue to black in seconds. One large hand strays to my knee, his thumb traces an infinity symbol there. With each small press of skin to denim, I feel his touch as if it is searing my skin with his mark. Ribbons of excitement rush out through my limbs until what he said crashes around me.
“Excuse me. What?” I jump from my seat, which takes a bit of effort, as my legs have turned to jelly. Take this somewhere more comfortable? Like I’m a whore ready to hop into bed with a man, albeit a sexy as hell one, ten minutes after meeting? I am not that girl. Well, I could be, but that’s not the impression I want to give.
His face twists into a confused grimace. He reaches for me, but I step back escaping his grasp. Big men reaching for me often trigger a panic attack. His eyes narrow. “You want me. I can see it very clearly. It’s written all over your gorgeous face, and you wear your emotions on your sleeve.”
Tingles of fear prickle my spine and shoot up to raise the tender hairs at my neck. I shake my head. “You must have misunderstood. I need to go. It was nice meeting you.” Turning, I clear my head and make for the lobby bar’s exit.
“Gillian, wait!” he calls from behind me. I debate breaking into a full run, but I know I’m safe here. This is a five star resort hotel in the middle of downtown Chicago. People are milling around everywhere. With a deep breath, I turn and face the most beautiful man alive. Superman doesn’t do him justice. He is just…perfect.
When he catches up to me, he hands me a white card. “My business card. My cell is on the back. I’m not really sure what happened here, but I’d like to see you again.”
Fat chance.
“I’ll think about it.”
He tilts his head in a way that makes me believe he’s never been let down by a woman before. He probably hasn’t. It would take a certifiable woman to turn down a romp with this sexy stranger, but I’m living for tomorrow, not today. A slow grin slides across his face. He leans forward and places both hands tentatively on my biceps. It takes everything I have not to panic. I instigate touching. It is part of my coping mechanism. I close my eyes as he leans close and kisses my cheek.
Sandalwood and citrus permeate the air around his large frame. God he smells good. Chase whispers in my ear. “Until we meet again.” Then he drags his lips along the side of my chin before he pulls away. I could melt on the spot. He winks, then turns on his heel and walks back to the bar.
***
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
The internal rant runs in a constant loop as I pull off my heels and chuck them across the room. Poor, beautiful shoes. They don’t deserve such treatment, but I have to get the aggression out somehow. The need to smack my head against a hard surface is very appealing at this moment. It is concussion or shoe abuse.
Ugh,
why can’t I just be normal? Walk into a bar. Sit down. Have a drink. Meet a beautiful man. Flirt. He asks you out. That’s how that meeting with Chase
should
have gone. But no. Not for Gigi Callahan, the broken girl from San Francisco. The man makes one overtly sexual suggestion, and I crumble into a weeping willow. Worse, I scamper off like a frightened little puppy. I should have stayed and given it back to him in spades.
It’s not as if I’m a prude or a saint. I’ve been approached sexually plenty of times. Even considered it a time or two. But with him, it was as if I couldn’t get my brain together long enough to put two sentences together. My lack of a filter egged him on, gave him the green light. He probably beds a different woman each night. With a face and body like an Adonis, who wouldn’t want to fall into his bed? Hell, if I wasn’t such a scaredy cat, I’d be scratching at his leg right now begging for a petting.
Chase.
Just thinking about him has my stomach in knots and my panties moist.
Arrrgggghhhhh.
I flop down on the bed and stare at the ceiling in defeat. When am I going to learn how to control my fears? Doesn’t matter. I’m here to focus on my work with Safe Haven and that’s it. Though, maybe if I do unto others, eventually someone good will do unto me. Like someone tall with dark hair, ocean blue eyes, and warm hands.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
My cell phone buzzes on the end table, bringing me out of my reverie. It’s my roommate. Thank God!
“Ria! I’m so glad you called,” I screech into the phone.
“
Mi Amiga!
What’s wrong? You don’t sound like yourself.”
Maria De La Torre is one of my best female friends, and my roommate. We’ve been through hell and back and own matching t-shirts. Over the years, we’ve grown especially protective of one another. Her love and support got me through many nights full of tears and self-loathing. I’ve been her rock just as many times. Together, and with a great deal of therapy, we’ve learned to cope and be more open about our feelings. I’m still closed off, but there are a select few people in my world I trust. Maria is one of them.
“Girl, I met a man.” I sigh into the phone, disgusted with myself.
“So why do you sound like your dog just died?” She laughs.
“I don’t know. This man is different. He’s intense…” Intense is an understatement.
Maria sighs over the line. “Gigi, don’t tell me you met another bastard who just wants to get into your pants? I mean, you’re pretty bangin’ but you have to stop attracting these
pedazos de mierda!
”
I laugh. She thinks all men are
pieces of shit.
Useless. Her use of Spanish intermingled with English makes her incredibly endearing. It’s unique to her, and it’s taught me quite a lot about the language.
“He’s not like that. Well, actually I don’t know much about him other than he’s hot. When I say he’s hot, I’m talking movie star quality,
People’s
“Sexiest Man Alive” kind of hot. Women everywhere probably drop their panties without question for him.” He probably knows it, too. Smug bastard.
She giggles. “Nice. So are you going to?”
“Am I going to what?”
“Drop your panties for him, silly.” Her laughter gets louder, laced with a “duh” tone.
“No! I met him, had a conversation with him and then ran off. I completely embarrassed myself. I doubt he’d want to see me again.” It’s true. Besides, if he knew my past, he’d take that sexy suit wearing Superman body of his in the opposite direction.
“
Cara Bonita
, no. I’m sure you didn’t.” I cringe. She has always called me “beautiful face.” It’s her personal pet name. She busts out with the endearment when she feels I’m down or need encouragement. “Did he ask you out or ask for your phone number?”
A spark of hope glitters in the distance. “Well, yes, kind of. He gave me his business card with his cell phone number on the back. Asked me to call him.” Technically he did give me the card after the idiot behavior, so maybe he is interested. What does that say about him though? I acted like a complete wack-a-doo, but he did make an overture as if he was soliciting me. That was uncalled for too.
“See, obviously there was something there. Are you going to?” She sounds hopeful. “You deserve a little fun while you’re in Chicago. Besides, when was the last time you got laid, anyway?” Her question is rhetorical. She knows it’s been months.
“Ria! I just met him. You’re suggesting I fall into bed with him?” The girl has no limits. Though I can’t say the thought didn’t wiggle its way into my mind, especially when he loosened that silver tie, exposing a stimulating patch of skin.
“Yes, I am. You need to get fucked!”
I gasp at her crassness.
“You’ve been uptight lately. You said yourself he’s the kind of guy women want to bed. Just think about it. You’re young,
mi amiga!
Start acting twenty four instead of forty four.”
I sigh and blow out a long breath. “You’ve got a point. I’ll think about it. How ‘bout I call you tomorrow after my first board meeting. I’m going to head to bed so I can hit the gym first thing.” I yawn loudly, and realize I’m spent.
Maria really does have a point. I have been way too uptight. The last relationship I had, if you could call it that, was with Daniel, the wimp.
That’s unfair. It’s not really that he was a wimp. He was just too sensitive for me. Treated me like a princess and cried at chick flicks. I rarely cry. He was also really boring in bed. Only interested in the missionary position, never straying from the norm. He freaked out when I suggested he take me from behind. His shocked voice rumbled in my brain,
“You want to be fucked like a whore, Gigi? Jesus, what’s wrong with you?”
The thought of the jerk makes me ill. I need a man who knows his way around a woman. One who will excite me; make me come regularly without fearing being hurt. Daniel never gave me much pleasure, but he never once touched me in anger.
Ria’s disgruntled voice brings me back from my reverie.
“Ugh! You are always hitting the gym. Bree would be proud though. Me, I’m going to sit down and enjoy a fat dinner with Tommy. Things are heating up, and I think I’m finally going to get him to take me to bed!” she exclaims excitedly.
Watching Maria fawn over a man is completely new territory. Most men fall all over themselves to be near her, not the other way around. “Anticipation makes the experience all the better,” I remind her. “Enjoy the attention he’s lavishing on you. At least he actually wants to be with you, not just jump your bones.” I laugh and hear her frustrated growl.
“I want
mis huesos
jumped!”
“Good luck with that. Enjoy your dinner. I’m exhausted from traveling and its two hours ahead here,” I remind her with another loud yawn.
“Goodnight,
Cara Bonita. Te quiero. Besos.
”
“I love you too.
Besos.
”
I hook the phone to the charger and slip into a nightgown. After scanning my texts, I decide to do a mass text to the girls and Phillip. My other soul sisters will want to know I’m safe and sound in the Windy City. Phillip comes unglued if he doesn’t hear from me. One quick text to the group stating I’ll reach out tomorrow after the board meeting, and I’m ready to hit the hay.
I’m nervous about the day, never having been to a Board of Directors meeting for the Safe Haven Foundation. My hope is that I can impress them with my campaign statistics and fundraising accomplishments for the year. Closing my eyes, I slow my breathing, allowing jumpy nerves to relax. I fall asleep dreaming of Caribbean blue eyes and strong hands caressing me into oblivion.
Chapter 2
Heart pounding, muscles screaming, sweat slowly trickles down my back. My breath comes in harsh pants. I’m close, so close, just a little farther, and I’ll be there. Euphoria hits, and I push that extra bit harder, taking me right over the edge. Runners high. Sweet baby Jesus, it’s so good.
My feet pound against the treadmill, and I smile in victory. A loud whoosh of breath, almost a moan, escapes me. I close my eyes in pure bliss, relishing in the feeling of being completely alive.
“Incredible,” someone whispers behind me.
I’m startled out of my nirvana. My foot hits the rubber at a slant, and I’m falling. In a useless attempt, I grapple for purchase against the metal bars of the treadmill, but my sweaty fingers slip and my body flies backward. I tumble over myself, limbs flailing. Strong arms grip my waist and haul me off the machine. I’m crushed against a solid wall of hard muscle.
“Jesus, Gillian! You could have been seriously hurt!” Chase Davis’ worried eyes search my face.
I’m stunned into silence. I feel dazed and confused. My heart is pounding a mile a minute, legs weak and wobbly and my breath comes in huge panting gasps. I grip the skin of his back tightly, trying to get my equilibrium back. His right hand caresses my face, and his left firmly holds me around my waist. If he wasn’t, I don’t know that I’d have been able to stand on my own.
“Are you okay?”
“Um, yeah. I think so.” I shake my head and bring my hands to his shoulders to steady myself. They meet naked, moist flesh, and my body becomes all too aware of just how close Chase is. Our bodies are plastered against one another. His stomach touching mine, skin to skin, as I take deep breaths. Every surface that’s touching him is warm, from his hard abdominals to his strong shoulders. Sweat trickles from his hairline, dripping down his neck. I want to lick that drop of sweat off just to see how he tastes.