Two Can Play (10 page)

HER

We arrive back in the cab. I'm not feeling the effects of the champagne much at all as I'm stuffed to the brim with pizza and swimming in chocolate ice cream. It's absorbing the alcohol nicely. We go inside and drag our overfed selves upstairs, flopping on the sofas.

“
I won't need to eat a thing tomorrow,” I say patting my rounded stomach.

“
Or the next day, either,” he agrees, patting his.

“
I really can't go to bed feeling like this. I'll never get to sleep. Shall we put some music on?”

“
That'll be cool...what've you got?”

“
My iPod's there. Choose something you like,” I suggest.

I open my laptop and play around on Facebook, looking him up. I find him fairly quickly and send him a friend request.

“You've got a lot of really funny stuff in here,” he says, smirking at me, scrolling through my huge music library.

“
I know. Anything in particular you like, though?”

“
Crusaders...Sly...James Brown...classic soul stuff. I kinda like all that, I guess, but it's not my favorite. Oh ha ha...no way...not the Osmonds? You're kidding me.”

“
Blame my mother, because she was their number one fan and still is. I completely love the Osmonds. Especially Jay, and Love Me For a Reason makes me go all shivery, the lyrics are so sweet.” I grin at him.

“
Right, well I don't think I've heard that one. I'll take your word for it....” He hums to himself as he browses, his face breaking into a broad grin. “Oh Kate, you're so cute...Barry White and Stevie Wonder?” I tut at him. “Now what's this I see...amazing, it's actually 21st century, just about, Bon Jovi and Aerosmith. Like a bit of oldie rock, do you?”

“
More than like, it's damn hot.”

“
Each to their own, not my kinda thing...I think I need to re-educate your musical taste at some stage.”

“
I'm happy with what I like already, thank you very much,” I object.

“
But most of it is fucking dreadful,” he says, “but despite that, I've managed to find one.”

“
Plug it in the speakers on the shelf up there.”

Bruno Mars, “Just The Way You Are” starts up.

I look up as he smiles at me.

“
Oh funny, ha ha. Find something else, mister.”

“
I like it. It's catchy.”

“
I can tell you're definitely not a Bruno Mars fan. Pick something
you
like.”

“
Okay, I admit it. It's not really me. He's a great laugh though.”

“
You know Bruno?” I ask in awe. I'm easily starstruck. Kinda sad, I know.

“
Yep, we've hung out a few times...ahh, here we go. Definitely more me.” He sniggers to himself, dirtily.

I laugh as it begins. Jason Derulo, “Talk Dirty To Me.”

Typical... But a great song, anyway.

“
...I'm that flight that you get on, international. First class seat on my lap girl, riding comfortable...”

I can't stop myself singing this one.

“Nothing like a song with dirty lyrics, is there?” I mutter, “I wish I'd written that one.” I admit with a long sigh.

“
It's tame compared to some I've heard. And for all I know you've written something far dirtier yourself. I don't know, do I, because you won't show me.”

I give him a dark and dirty look to go with the dirty song.

He leaves the room and returns a moment later with his laptop.

He faffs around setting the password for a minute, getting connected into my Wi-Fi. Then he finally sits down opposite me.

“How sweet. Katrina Denton has requested I become her friend on Facebook. What d'you think, Kate? Shall I accept?”

“
She's a very nice girl. I think you should,” I say, smiling into my laptop.

“
Okay, we're friends.”

His chat box appears with the words
.
“Hiya, hot stuff.
”
and a row of pink hearts.

Cute...so we're flirting online are we? I suppose it's harmless enough.

I send him a love cat.

He sends me the love eyes.

“I love your tattoos. Can I see the rest? I'm heavily into body art,
”
I type, sniggering quietly to myself and adding a ton more pink hearts. I send and watch for his reaction.

His eyes flare at me across the room and he silently slips his T-shirt off.

I have a good look. I'm blinded to the tattoos by his smooth, broad shoulders, and well-developed chest muscles. I try not to drool and pass out with lust.

“
Stand up and twirl please.
”
I add in the chat box. Plus a few winks. I'm dying to see the whole damn lot of him.

He obliges my request.

Oh my God. The most perfect male body. Ever.

I'm having one of those highly intense female moments again. Everything below the waist is desperate to jump on him.

“Thank you, that was a very pleasant show.
”
I type, with a row of smileys, trying to calm myself down.

“
Your turn now.
”
Appears before my eyes.

“
Sorry no tattoos to show you. I'm ink free.
”
And another smiley.

“
I don't believe you. Prove it.
”
Followed by a row of tongue-outs.

“
Fuck off.
”
I subtly reply with a touch of finality, adding an angry face for extra emphasis.

I shut my laptop and give him a long hard glare. He shuts his and glares back.

“You told me you were nice,” he says, pouting manly style.

God, that look's so hot! He's so hot.

“Oh I am, and little Miss Nice is off to bed now.”

“
It's only ten thirty. What about the pizza stomach?”

“
I'm not going to sleep. But if I go and sit in my room you can't mentally undress me like you are right now.”

“
Hang on now, honey. You're the one who asked me to take
my
T-shirt off.”

“
It wasn't a sexually driven request.”

“
You could have fooled me.”
His eyes flare pointedly.

So he spotted my lustful looks and drooling, did he?

“I'm off limits, okay? If I stay here, will you promise not to hit on me?” A smile is dying to burst out on my face but I keep it well hidden. Swallow it fast.

“
Well I can try, but that's a real hard one. It's ingrained in me. See a pretty girl—must hit on her, kinda thing,” he says with a teasing broad grin appearing.

The deep voice and wicked expression is getting to me. More than getting to me, if I'm honest. The whole Aaron package is so damn sexy, I'm dying to unwrap it and see what else is inside.

“Look somewhere else then,” I suggest, in an annoyed tone of voice to cover my rapidly growing interest.

“
Sorry, can't do that...it's my tunnel vision. I zone in on things I like. It's way beyond my control.” He flicks his eyes over me and licks his lips slowly.

He's definitely zoning in on parts of me right now, and it's
way beyond
sexy. I'm almost frothing at the mouth.

I stifle a groan. “Oh, for God's sake. And will you please put your T-shirt back on,” I snap, a little over the top in my delivery.

“I'll make us some coffee, shall I?” he says sharply, getting up and dressing. Thankfully.

“
What a good idea. Want a coffee machine lesson?”

“
I think I can work it out on my own,” he replies huffily.

He disappears into the kitchen.

I get the impression he's used to women falling at his feet.

And I can see why they would.

Just a few short hours ago I was completely stuck on Marco, but now I'm not sure.

Despite his upfront naughty personality, and damn good looks, Aaron has something that really appeals to me. A carefully hidden side to his character. I love his cheeky, fun approach to life and I really enjoyed being out with him this evening. But behind his sexy, bad-boy persona, which really hits my sweet spot, I sense he's got an inner turmoil raging. And he seems more than a little empty and lonely. Just like me.

We drink our coffee, talk some more, and play some of my apparently “dreadful” taste in music for an hour. He must like dreadful music because he's smiling a lot and seems to be enjoying himself no end.

And at least he's stopped hitting on me. For now, anyway.

~ * ~

I wake early the next morning, which is very unusual for me. Perhaps my subconscious knows someone else is here in my small space, and my equilibrium is disturbed, or something like that.

It's just light when I give up trying to get myself back to sleep again. I have the urge to write something naughty, I expect it's because I've been stirred up and excited lately. I feel all creative and spiced up, like a steaming hot bowl of Naga chilies, in a really great mood for writing a scorcher of a story I've had whirring around my mind for a while. I wrap myself with my dressing gown and go out to the living room quietly, but what I see stops me in my tracks in the doorway.

He has my Dreams folder in his hands.

OH NOOOO...I'm so, so stupid...I should have hidden it. Put it away.

He's absorbed and well on the way to finishing it by the looks of things.

He must have been sitting there for hours.

“
What are you doing?” I ask him. I can barely speak. I'm completely horrified.

He jumps in surprise.

“Just reading your work,” he says guiltily.

“
Aaron, no...Oh no, no, no....” I cover my face with my hands in shame. All my wildest fantasies and that unspeakable experience is in there.  Some heavy, extremely explicit stuff as well. Things I could never show anyone I know.

And now I'm exposed.

I feel as if I'm standing naked in front of him. Worse than naked. I'm skinless. My soul's bared. I'm a throbbing mass of nerves, every painful feeling or sexual thought I've ever had is on display.

A huge sob escapes from my mouth and I turn and rush back into my room, slamming the door.

I can't face him, ever again...how could he do this to me?

A few minutes later he knocks.

“GO AWAY!” I shout angrily.