Chapter Ten
With wide eyes and an even wider smile that I couldn't dismiss no matter how hard I tried, I watched him sleep. His features were incredibly handsome, and kind of boyish, in relaxation. He was laid on his left side, one arm casually draped across my waist. His hair was a little messy and I had to fight the urge to brush a few strands off his forehead.
Sex had never been like that before. And it wasn’t just because he obviously knew a thing or two about female anatomy. It was something else; something that existed between us that I’d never felt with another man. Had he felt it with another woman? I knew those thoughts would only lead to unhappiness and raging self-doubt, but I couldn’t stop them.
Was I any different from the unknown number of women he’d had in the past?
I couldn’t bring myself to believe that I meant nothing to him. He’d waited too long, and been far too romantic for the whole thing to have been just a meaningless screw. He hadn’t pressed me into it, either. I’m almost certain that if I’d asked him to take me home after dinner, and left him with only a kiss by the front door, he wouldn’t have dreamed of pushing for more.
What that made clear to me was that he wasn’t a player who held nothing but disdain and lust for women. But it didn’t tell me how I ranked in his esteem compared with those who had come before me.
Just because he treated the ladies he bedded like...well, like ladies, didn’t mean that he felt some intense attachment.
I did, though. I felt an attachment that I hadn’t bargained on, and one that I had never felt before. And that was bad on two counts. For one thing, I’d planned to focus on my studies, and falling in love wasn’t exactly conducive to that. And for another, I didn’t know whether he felt the same way.
Although, I reminded myself, at dinner he’d seemed interested in the amount of time I’d be spending in Australia. Those three years seemed important, as though getting involved with me wouldn’t be just some summer fling.
As the thoughts continued to whirl, and sleep seemed further off than it had before, I tried to take my eyes off him, worried that if he woke up and found me staring at him, he might think I was some psychopath.
But that was easier said than done, too.
After a few failed attempts to close my eyes, I carefully slid away from him, lifting his arm gently in the process. Once I’d scooted far enough to be out of reach, I laid his hand back down and slipped out of the bed completely.
Silently, I wandered in the darkness, not bothered about my nudity until I got back into the suite’s living space and trod on Jay’s shirt.
Without conscious thought, I bent, scooped it up and slipped my arms into the soft sleeves. As I buttoned it, I inhaled, breathing in the sweet scent that was not only inextricably him, but would, from that moment on, be inextricably linked with memories of that night. Smiling, despite my concerns, I padded toward the couch before pausing to pick up my purse and retrieve my phone from it.
I don’t really know what I intended to do. I certainly wasn’t going to call any one. Agenda less, I slumped down on the cozy corner of the couch and tapped on the screen to wake it. Through habit, I went to my emails, and noticed that Laura had sent me a picture of the kitten she’d just adopted. She’d always wanted a cat, and couldn’t have one while we lived together, because I was allergic.
Automatically moving on to the next unread message, my eyes didn’t stray long enough on the address to register exactly what it was. Instead, my eyes focused on: Dear Ms. Solano,
I’m writing to let you know that a spot has opened on my PhD program in the coming academic year, and, because I was very intrigued by your proposal, I’d like to offer the place to you. I realize at this point you may have begun your doctoral studies elsewhere, and if that’s the case, any credits you’ve accrued can be transferred. If you’re interested, please contact me at your earliest convenience.
Prof. Calhoun (Yale University, dept. of Ancient History)
Not sure whether I was still breathing or not, I stared hard at the screen. Yale. Yale had been my first choice. I’d been desperate to get into Yale. This was all I’d wanted for several years. Yet, I wasn’t sure whether I was excited or not.
After all, attending Yale would mean leaving Australia; leaving Jay. And I was no longer sure that was what I wanted. But, it was Yale. How could I pass up an opportunity like that?
Hearing the soft clearing of a throat, I quickly sent my phone to sleep and dropped it on the coffee table. Peering over the back of the couch, I found him completely naked and running one sleepy hand through his scruffy hair.
“Y’know,” he murmured lazily, “a less secure guy might be troubled by the fact that you’re out here on your phone.”
“I wasn’t on my phone,” I insisted quietly. “I was just having trouble sleeping.”
“Oh,” he nodded, his eyes slowly starting to come into wakefulness as he drew closer. Completely unconcerned with the soft sway of his flaccid penis.
To him it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to be unclothed in front of me. I wasn’t sure, without the intoxication of lust, I could be quite as relaxed in my own nakedness, but I loved the fact that he was.
“Well, a less secure guy might be troubled by that, too,” he pointed out jokingly as he sat himself next to me and instinctively placed a hand on my bare knee. “Are you OK?” he asked with a degree of seriousness.
“I’m fine,” I assured him with a definite nod of my head. “I was just thinking.”
“About?” he probed, his fingers drawing delightful circles over my kneecap.
Not wanting to tell him about either of the two things that were weighing on my thoughts, I attempted to shrug it off. “It’s nothin’,” I mumbled.
His brow creased and eyes narrowed. “Faith, listen, I...” taking a pause, he shook his head before starting again. “Faith, if I’ve done something-”
“No,” I hurriedly corrected him, turning my upper body until I was facing him. “No, it’s nothing you’ve done, I promise. It was...It was...” Groping for the word, I eventual whispered, “Perfect.”
Giving me what looked like a somewhat bashful half smile, he continued to stroke my leg. “Not too perfect, I hope,” he said softly.
“Can it be too perfect?” I wondered.
“I think it would be a shame if we’ve already peaked,” he noted, his fingers sliding higher, but halting at my mid-thigh.
There was no misconstruing that statement. He wanted more than just a quick fling. How long our relationship would last, well neither one of us could predict that, but it was clear he wasn’t going into this with his eyes on the exit. And if that was the case, then I was ready to open my heart to the possibility of getting hurt. Realistically, I already had, but I wasn’t ready to admit that.
“Faith, it was perfect,” he added on a whisper. “Most perfect thing I’ve known in a long time. And I’d like to hope that you and I could give this a crack, and see just how perfect we could be together.”
There was no mistaking the earnestness in his clear blue eyes, and I felt the sudden need to lick at very dry lips.
“What d’ya say?” he asked, hesitantly. “Are we gonna take a leap of faith together this time?”
“Yes,” I murmured instantly, the answer coming from some intrinsic place that did not even consider Yale.
The more reasonable side of me, meanwhile, said I still had time. I had a chance to take a throw of the dice with Jay. And, if things didn’t work out over the coming few months...actually, no, I didn’t like that train of thought. In that moment, all that mattered was the man beside me.
Leaning toward him, I was heart-warmed when he mirrored the motion and met my lips halfway. Yes, that was all that mattered. Yale had done me a favor in rejecting me. And I wasn’t going to turn my back on the serendipity that turn of events had presented me with.
“Coming back to bed?” he quietly asked, lips still brushing mine.
&nb
sp; “Hmm,” I agreed.
“I might have a way to help you sleep,” he added saucily.
I had absolutely no difficulty in believing him!
To be continued...
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The Escort Next Door
by
Clara James
Copyright © 2013 by Clara James
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Escort Next Door
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