Spark (15 page)

“You taste good,” he says in between kisses. “You’d better come with me.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

The room has a modern king-size bed, with an upholstered black bedhead, and edging around the base. Charcoal sheets are twisted halfway down the mattress, and matching pillows are strewn on the floor.

Alex flicks on a lamp beside the bed.
What is it with him and mood lighting?
In the corner sits a commanding red wing-back chair—like the ones at his bar. I’m immediately drawn to it, and sit and take off my heels.

“God, that feels better,” I say. Alex takes off his shoes and socks, and sits on the end of the bed. He takes one of my feet and massages it. “
That
feels even better,” I add.

A wicked grin tickles at his lips. He massages the other foot and I sink down into the chair, my skirt riding up.

“You’re the last thing I expected to see tonight.” Alex sits back and undoes his tie, tossing it on the floor. He undoes the first few buttons of his shirt, and leans back on his elbows. “Let me have a look at you.”
What does he mean?

“Here I am.” I shrug my shoulders.

“Take off your top,” he orders.
Oh
. He wants to
look
at me. I swallow the lump in my throat, and I slowly peel my shirt over my head. “Now, your skirt.”

“Okay …” I stand up and unzip it at the back, push it down over my hips, and step out of it. I silently congratulate myself for putting on a matching set of underwear. His eyes watch my every move. Feeling a bit giddy, I flop back down in the chair.

“Don’t stop.”

“Maybe you could help.”
I’m feeling a bit lonely over here …

“No, no, I like to watch.” I don’t know whether to be excited or
completely
creeped out by his comment. “Besides, it’s much more satisfying watching you do it.”

I unhook my bra and toss it at him. My nipples perk up from contact with the cool air … or is it the fact that I am practically naked? I lean back into the chair and try desperately not to smile.

“Do I have to come over there?” he chastises.

I simply nod my head.

He sits up.
Yes, get over here
.

He leans back. “No, you’re doing just fine. Come on … take ’em off.” A resigned puff of air leaves my mouth, and I stand up and wiggle out of my panties. “
Now
you can sit back down.”

“So bossy,” I whisper. A fresh assault of goose bumps hit my cool skin. I don’t think I’ve
ever
felt this exposed. I don’t know where to put my hands.
Should I cover myself?
Distracted by the rise and fall of my chest, I rest them on the arms of the chair and try to steady my breathing.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I guess not. Are
you
planning on taking anything off?”

“No need to rush, sweetheart.” He runs his tongue along his lower lip. “Move your knees apart.”

Another lump surfaces in my throat, and this one is much harder to swallow. I slowly push my knees out.
Now
, I feel exposed.

He sits up and strokes his chin, smiling. “You know, that chair has
never
looked so good.” Heat blooms over my chest, rising up to my face. His glance is predatory as he moves in. “And I certainly didn’t think I’d have such a sweet thing to play with tonight.”

Dear God
.

I didn’t think I’d be here either,
especially
as I am now. He leans over me, and I fumble with the remaining buttons on his shirt. He slips out of it, and hangs it off the corner of the chair. I run my fingers over the firm curves of his chest, and the definition of muscles down his torso and on his hips. He places my hands on the arms of the chair, holding them down firmly.

“Just let me touch you,” he whispers in my ear.

Okay, whatever you say.

My heart beats hard against my ribcage, anticipation slowly unravelling me. Without touching any other part of my body, his lips part mine. His tongue softly explores the inside of my mouth. I shudder as his mouth moves down my neck. He kneels between my legs, pushing them outward. I dig my fingernails into the chair and arch my back as his hands run over my breasts, trailing down my torso.

He’s not in any hurry.

Warmth builds inside me with each deliberately … slow … touch.

“Fuck, I bet you taste as good as you feel,” he says as his mouth runs over my breasts, sucking each nipple. He takes his time, his mouth skimming down to my waist, his tongue dipping into my navel. He sinks lower.

No
.
He’s not going to …

Hot and wet, his tongue ignites something deep within me as he slowly circles me, little by little, increasing the pace.

“
OhmyGod
,” I moan as his tongue delves deeper inside me until I’m there—on the edge of something about to consume me. Alex keeps me there for an eternity.

With stuttered breaths, I gasp, the intensity almost too much to bear.

Then I fall. Head first into a swirling sea.

I cry out as sensations sweep to every cell in my trembling body, zapping it to life. As the waves fade, the explosion of pleasure leaves me numb and utterly exhausted. I think I even saw stars. My head swirling, he picks me up and carries me over to the bed.

“Why are you still wearing pants?” I mumble, barely able to keep my eyes open. I tug on his belt and pull him against me. He presses the hardness in his jeans against my hip.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. This does more for me than you know. Besides, I’m exhausted, and I don’t think you’re
quite
ready for me. I’m gonna take a shower.”

He stands up and pulls the doona over me, the door closing a second later. I bury my head in a soft pillow that smells of Alex, the faint echo of streaming water lulling me to sleep.

****

My head aches as sunlight stabs at my eyelids like tiny needles.
Where am I?
I rub my eyes and slowly open them, taking in my surroundings.
Again, where am I?
Sitting up, my eyes are drawn to the red chair in the corner.

Oh. Now I remember. Or, shall I say, how could I forget.

Mmm, I blame Sambuca
.

I’m at Alex’s place. It’s the strangest feeling waking up in someone else’s bed … very
unGenevieve.
God, my parents would be mortified right now if they knew where I was, and what I got up to last night … with a man more than ten years older me. Dad would be around here with a tyre wrench, given half the chance.

In the king-size bed, there’s nothing but the chill of the sheets beside me. I don’t even remember Alex coming to bed. I must have well and truly passed out. I can’t hear any other noises in the apartment, but the bedroom door is shut. I should probably go see if he’s still here.

Yawning and stretching, I tug Alex’s white shirt off the chair, slip it on, and stumble-walk from the room. Remnants of his musky aftershave tickle my senses, causing me to swallow the excess saliva in my mouth.

“Oh, hi. I didn’t think you were here.” I yawn, trying to tidy my hair. He’s in a singlet top, shorts and sneakers, and stares in my direction like I’m invisible. I instantly get the feeling I’m intruding.

“I’m off to the gym. You can let yourself out, or I can give you a ride home now if you want,” he says checking the time on his chunky silver watch.

An arctic breeze hits me head on.
How about,
good morning, beautiful, or something
? Why is he acting so cool? The butterflies in my stomach kick about. One thing I know is that my head might just split in two.

“I might take a shower, if that’s okay,” I reply shyly. I know I’m going to get the Spanish inquisition from Crystal when I get home, particularly doing the walk of shame. It’s something entirely new for me. She’d better not be home. Crap, I should have texted her last night and told her I wasn’t coming back. I guess I’d had other things on my mind.

“Sure, just lock the door on your way out,” Alex mumbles as he opens the door.

Gee, thanks
.

“Oh, and Genevieve … anytime you feel like visiting, just give me a call. I assume you still have my number?”

“Yeah, I … I still have it,” I say.

He turns, and the heavy door slams shut behind him.

He didn’t even kiss me goodbye.

****

Another tough week. Nothing new about that. Mum rings me almost every night. Things are about to get messy with the divorce. The hardest part about talking to her is that I know she needs me as a friend, but I think she forgets I’m her daughter, and this affects me, like the rest of the family. I do my best to support her, but sometimes I don’t know what to say. It’s just so fucking hard. I find myself randomly welling up with tears. Cassie always seems to be the one who catches me. She must think I’m such a cry-baby.

With everything going on, my emotions are turbulent. I’m like a small plane in a fierce thunderstorm, not knowing which way is up. When Mum was sick, it was so hard to carry everyone else—but when I need help, who will carry me? I no longer have my best friend. Every day I wish Jon never fell for me—things would be so much easier to cope with if he were around. I really,
really
miss him. But he made his decision, and I have to live with that.

At least Alex gave me something else to think about this week.

That chair
.

I’m still a little confused by the way he acted that morning. Regardless, I know I have to see him again … and soon.

****

On Friday morning, I call Bridget. She is surprised to hear from me so soon, and is super excited about going out tonight. Bridget is bringing along some of her girlfriends from uni. I should invite Cassie, but knowing I’ll probably end up with Alex, it’s best I don’t ask her. I’m not ready for the lecture. I just want to get drunk, and dance—which is really the prelude to calling Alex. After all, he did tell me to call anytime.

After a few cocktails, and almost too many shots to count, we hit the dance floor at Orchid Lounge. Bridget has a way of luring in the boys, and tonight they are lining up to buy us drinks. The other girls willingly accept. Even though I’m struggling with money, I can’t take their drinks. I don’t want random guys thinking I owe them something, and besides, Cassie would string me up and torture me if she found out that I did.

As we dance, I realise I don’t even remember her friends’ names, and I don’t care what music they’re playing. I just want to dance.

At around eleven thirty, I take a break to go to the toilet, and send Alex a text while I wait in the queue. It takes
several
attempts to write it without spelling mistakes.

Feel like a late night visitor? Eevie

It doesn’t take long to get a response.

Always, Genevieve, drop by the bar at 12.30 and we’ll go and play

God, that sounds so … naughty. I’d best let Bridget know we need to squeeze in a couple more drinks before I go and “play”.

****

By about one am, after fooling around in his lounge room, Alex has me down to my underwear. We haven’t spoken much since we got back here—we’ve just been listening to music, and slowly peeling off layers of clothing, piece by piece. His taste in music is a clear generation different to mine, but I dare not point it out. Somehow, Alex is still wearing more clothes than I am, with his jeans and shirt still on. I have only managed to rid him of his tie. He is very clever at keeping my hands away from him.

I stretch out on his long black leather lounge, which soon warms up beneath my practically naked body. Alex sits astride my hips. He runs his fingers around my bra, but I put my hands there to stop him taking it off.

“Don’t you think we need to even up the score? You’re wearing a lot more clothes than I am.” I frown.

“Mmm, no. Not yet,” he says, as if he has a grand plan.

Okay, whatever.

“So, you and your ex never fucked?” Alex is straight to the point, taking me aback.

“Um, no,” I reply shyly, blood rushing to my cheeks.
Why am I so embarrassed?

“Was it you or him?” he asks casually.
Geez, could he be any more blunt?
I scowl at him, and decide not to indulge him with any details.

“Things were complicated,” I say simply. I still feel loyal to Jon, even after everything, and I don’t see any benefit in Alex knowing the truth. It really is none of his business.

“Well, it’s pretty obvious you haven’t done it. Clearly from the look of your bush, it’s unchartered territory,” he says, running his fingers over the top of my panties.

Seriously!
How dare he! I now regret putting off the trip to the beauty salon, but I
never
thought I’d be ridiculed for it.
Doesn’t he know how to treat women?

“No need to be rude about it,” I say, as I push him firmly on the chest.

“Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart. I think it’s adorable.”
Adorable … what, like a puppy?

I frown at him, my eyebrows as close as they can possibly be to each other.

“Come on,” he says, “there’s a chair in my room with your name on it.”

****

For a month or so we carry on like this. At least once a week I party, drop by the bar late at night, and go home with him. It’s almost too convenient that he lives around the corner.

Alex’s bedside manner seems to be improving, although he still has this thing about me touching him. I just don’t get it. You’d think by now he’d be aching for me to grab his cock and do something with it. I can’t say I’m not curious. Does he even want to have sex with me?

Maybe I’m not pretty enough.

Maybe I’m just not good enough.

I know it’s not your regular relationship—not that I’ve had much experience. What Jon and I had was too complicated to measure against this. Since Alex and I started, whatever it is you call what we are doing, we’ve gone out once. I guess it was kind of a date, albeit just for lunch. But at least, on that lunch date, I felt like I wasn’t just being kept behind closed doors.