3
911 Words
BARTHOLOMEW
A few days later, I returned to her small store.
Like last time, she was on the phone. “I knew you’d like that blazer. The padding in the shoulders is discreet but gets the job done. I’ll grab you a few more in other colors. Thanks, Brian.” She hung up then lifted her chin to look at me.
No playfulness. No brightness in her eyes. In fact, she looked displeased to see me. “Was there something wrong with the clothes?”
“No.” I was back to my usual attire, dark jeans and boots with a black long-sleeved tee. There were worse things than being called the Terminator. In fact, it was a pretty apt comparison. If only she knew…
I approached the counter, seeing the way her eyes were now guarded.
“Then how can I help you?” Clipped tone. Cautious expression. I knew an angry woman when I saw one.
“Have a drink with me.” It was late morning, way past my bedtime, and the only appropriate drink for this time was coffee, when I preferred something stronger. Something told me the answer would be no, but asking her out was my agenda and I stuck to it.
“No.”
I waited for an explanation. None came. Just a very firm no.
Interesting. “May I ask why?”
“Does it matter? No means no. Do you not understand that?”
Damn, this woman could boil. “I do understand. But this no is half-assed.”
“No,” she said coldly. “It’s firm.”
“That’s interesting. So, do you always kneel at a man’s d**k when taking his measurements? Because I thought I was special.”
The hostility in her gaze flickered. It was subtle and quick, but it was there.
“I know you were hitting on me, sweetheart. Not my first rodeo.”
“Don’t do the sweetheart thing.”
“Then don’t make me hard just for fun.”
“I didn’t do that for fun—”
“You did it for research—and I’m sure you liked what you saw.”
She kept up her stare, shoulders back, her gaze fierce.
Jesus Christ, I wanted to f**k this woman. “Let’s get that drink.”
It took her a moment to word her response. “The answer is still no.”
It was all heat and flirtatious fun until she came to my apartment. That was the only thing that had changed. Did my wealth intimidate her? I found it hard to believe anything intimidated this woman. “Why?”
She slowly stiffened, as if straightening her spine in anticipation of an attack. “I know what you are.”
I blinked as I processed the statement.
Her hands remained on the counter, close to the pen sitting there in case she needed to grab it and jab me in the eye.
The heat between us suddenly turned into tension.
“And what is that?” I finally asked.
Her eyes flicked back and forth between mine. “A criminal.”
The corners of my mouth lifted slightly. “What gave me away?”
“The men. The guns.”
They’d been discreet, but she was too observant. “I’m not the kind of criminal that hurts people.”
“Only those who cross them, right?” she asked coldly. “Like how I’m crossing you right now.”
My eyes narrowed. “And I definitely don’t hurt women.”
For someone who was afraid, she sure didn’t look it. “You aren’t my type, so just go.”
“Then you must be into women because I’m every woman’s type.”
“Wow.” She released a forced laugh. “I don’t date criminals.”
“Then don’t date me.”
She held my stare, that undeniable attraction sizzling between us.
“You know what you want from me. The same thing I want from you.”
“Which is?”
I said it bluntly, didn’t smooth out the edges. “To f**k you.”
Now, she broke eye contact altogether, like my intensity became too much for her.
“In the mouth. In the ass. Between your t**s. Anywhere I’ll fit.”
She kept her gaze averted, but the deep breath she took showed her hand. “I don’t want to get involved with someone like you.” She had to force herself to say it, to override the natural urges screaming inside her body.
“Then don’t get involved. One night. That’s it.”
Her eyes moved to me.
“You can go back to f*****g your boring nine-to-five assholes tomorrow.”
She remained quiet, her fingers close to the pen sitting on the counter. Throughout the conversation, she’d discreetly moved her hand, getting closer and closer, as if she thought I wouldn’t notice. Now, she was close enough to reach it and stab it into my neck, but she didn’t bother. “One night.”
My d**k broke a record, it got hard so fast.
“I mean it.”
“One night is all I need, sweetheart.”
“And don’t call me that. Otherwise, I’ll slap you.”
“Is that supposed to deter me?” I asked, giving her a partial smile. “I’ll see you at eight.”
“Where?”
“Your place.”
“You know where I live?”
- Writer
