“It’s just…I never wanted to be some dainty damsel in distress. I never wanted to be rescued. I've never been that girl. I wanted to be the one kickin’ ass and taking names. I wanted to be the hero, you know.” I can’t believe I’m divulging such an outlandish idea to him but something about Dorian puts me oddly at ease. Like I’ve known him for years. I had never told anyone my career goals, not even Jared.
Dorian licks his lips before they spread into a sexy half smile. “I can understand that. Pretty damn sexy if you ask me.” Our server suddenly appears to collect our dirty dishes and hurriedly rushes away, no doubt feeling the sexual static between us. I take a long sip of wine to wash down my anxiety. I’m thankful when Dorian signals to our server for a refill.
“Well, that was a long time ago. I promise I’m a good girl now,” I say, giving him my best naughty smirk.
“Pity,” he retorts, his eyes flashing arctic blue. “That could’ve been fun. But I’m sure you’ve still got some bad girl in you. At least, that’s what I’m hoping.” He leans in closer and I can almost feel the coolness of his breath. I hold my own breath in expectation.
“Excusez-moi,” the polite waitress nervously interrupts with our meals. She sets them in front of us and asks if there is anything else we need. Dorian and I both answer with a shake of our heads and she scampers towards her other patrons.
I look down at my huge sandwich and my eyes grow wide. There’s no way I’ll be able to finish this. Dorian’s perfectly dressed salad seems more practical. “Please tell me you’ll take half of this,” I chuckle. It looks as if our orders have gotten switched around.
Noting the irony, Dorian snickers and says, “I’ll tell you what. Only if you share some of this with me.”
“Deal!” I reply and begin to portion him more than half of the mountain of delicate meats, cheeses and olive salad.
We enjoy our meal with easy chatter and chuckles, enjoying the delicious cuisine and refreshing wine. I find myself giggling at every joke and hanging onto every word that passes Dorian’s lips, which are pretty damn hard to take my eyes off of. I imagine tasting those lips again, nibbling them, feeling them against my skin, between my thighs…
“I hope you’ve left room for dessert,” Dorian remarks breaking me from my sinful thoughts.
“Dessert?!” I exclaim. “I can hardly breathe!”
“Oh come on, this place is actually best known for their desserts. Award-winning, I hear.” Right on cue our server scoops up our empty plates and places a dessert menu on the table. I can see why they’re known for their sweets; it’s as long as their regular menu.
We agree to go with the Fresh Fruit Tart, as long as I promise to try the Triple Chocolate Mousse Cake with him another time. It gives me hope and warms my heart that there could actually be a future for us. Then the looming remembrance of my murderous stalker rips that hope in two. The thought causes me to shiver and I give him a sorrowful tight-lipped grin. He looks at me with a question in his eyes but before he can ask me what’s wrong, our server returns with our dessert. The bright berries and flaky butter pastry look like a page out of Food & Wine magazine.
“We won’t need this,” Dorian says to our waitress, handing her one of the two small forks she brought with the tart. She looks puzzled and a bit embarrassed, as do I, but takes the fork and scurries away, leaving behind a pregnant pause.
Dorian takes the remaining fork and cuts into the tart, scooping up a bit of crust, custard and a fresh raspberry. He holds it in front of my lips, his eyes urging me to take a taste. I open my mouth slowly and Dorian eases the fork inside, sliding the creamy treat onto my tongue. I close my eyes as I savor the sweet silky custard, the rich crumbly crust, and the tartness of the berry. It’s divine. I open my eyes to meet Dorian’s smoldering hooded gaze. I lick my lips in response and smile slyly.
“Ok, your turn,” I say, taking the fork from him. I ration a small portion and slowly, deliberately feed Dorian the bite. He keeps his eyes on me the entire time, his stare intensifying as he gently chews. It’s enough to make me ache below and I secretly wish it was me he was consuming.
We continue on this way for the remainder of the tart and a glass of dessert wine when the familiar sound of a cell phone vibration interrupts us. It’s Dorian’s. He looks at the number, frowns and hits Ignore, stuffing the phone back into his jacket pocket. It makes me uneasy though I know I have no right to ask him who it is and why he didn’t answer.
Dorian’s demeanor shifts instantly and darkness creeps onto his face. The lighthearted, tender moments that we shared today are a distant memory. It’s as if I am looking at a stranger. The man who pressed his soft lips against mine in an impassioned, frenzied lip-lock is no longer present. The hidden darkness displayed on his caller ID has taken him away from me.
“Well, I better get home. It’s getting late,” I say after an uncomfortable beat. That’s right, better to end things on my terms before he dismisses me. My cold, guarded front is back with the intrusion of his.
“Yeah, that’s probably best,” he mutters and signals the waitress for the check.
When I offer to pay for my share, he waves me off without a word and pulls out his wallet. I sit in silence, fingering a loose thread on my sweater. Suddenly, I feel a warm finger on my chin gently pull my face up. Dorian is leaning over the table and his eyes connect with mine. He smiles kindly and I notice that he looks older, solemn. Remorse washes over him and I instantly soften. Once he notices that I’ve relaxed a bit, he exhales with relief. He then stands to his feet and holds his hand out to help me up. I oblige, and we make our way out into the cool evening air, hand in hand.
“I have to go out of town,” Dorian says somberly as we make our way back up to the northern part of town. When I don’t ask him where or why, he continues. “A family issue. I’d love to see you when I return. Do you have any plans for Friday?” There’s an apology in his voice. For what?
I think to make him sweat a little and don’t answer right away. “Ummm, I don’t think I have anything planned.” Who am I kidding? Of course, I’m free! I can’t even pretend to be a tease. “Sure. I think I can swing that.”
I look over and notice Dorian smirking in the shroud of darkness as he pulls up next to my car in the employee lot. There are many cars scattered around, being that it is only early evening. It seems wrong to call it a night so early on a Saturday, but Dorian seems urgent to get home.
“Where do you live, Dorian?”
“I’m staying at The Broadmoor for now,” he says a bit embarrassed. I nod my head, wondering why he’d feel embarrassed about staying at the most posh, luxurious hotel in town. Could he be one of those rebellious trust fund kids, ashamed of their inherited wealth? “Have you ever stayed there?”
“Can’t say I have. But I’ve heard it’s pretty swanky. That’s over by Cheyenne Mountain, right?”
“Yes, it is. And you? Where do you live?” he asks.
I think about my next answer carefully. “With my parents still. But Morgan and I are planning to get an apartment this summer.” No use in giving away too much information. As much as I want to, can I trust Dorian? With more than just my body, that is.
Dorian leans closer and my heartbeat quickens. “Thank you, Gabriella, for a wonderful evening,” he breathes. I reflexively inch closer to him.
“Anytime,” I smirk. I wish I could come up with something clever or sexy, but I go with the truth.
We sit staring at each other as our desire heats the small contained space. Dorian moves in a bit more and I gladly match his distance. We are so close, our breath mingling between open, inviting lips. Dorian nuzzles the bridge of his nose against mine and the contact is electric. I giggle at the gesture and he swiftly swallows it with his mouth, igniting the fire down between my thighs. I moan submissively and surrender to his curious tongue. Dorian relishes the admission; it only encourages him to deepen the kiss, cradling my face in his large hands and grabbing a handful of my tresses. I’
m completely lost in him and want him to take this kiss further still. I want him. I’ve known this man for all of 10 minutes and I already want to feel him inside of me. And if his kiss is any indication of his sexual ability, I won’t be disappointed.
The aggravating double Ding! from my cell phone intrudes on our intimacy and I curse it under my breath. Dorian and I gaze at each other, still high on each other’s flavor and craving more. But the moment has passed; the magic has dissipated and we are back in the here and now.
“I better go,” I say, wishing Dorian would beg me not to. He looks slightly dismayed but doesn’t respond so I gather my coat and purse.
“Friday,” he says as I reach for the door handle.
“Friday,” I smile. I open the door and swing my legs out of the car as gracefully as I can. I turn to Dorian just before I rise. “Dorian, what is your last name?” The question has been gnawing at me all day. It’s only right; I have locked lips with him twice already. Score one for college sluts!
Dorian looks at me, his expression searching yet somewhat tortured as if he would really rather not tell me. Resignation washes over him.
“Skotos,” he replies, accenting the word in a foreign tongue. It sounds European; Greek maybe. That would explain Dorian’s exotic good looks.
“Well, goodnight Dorian Skotos,” I say, careful to pronounce it correctly, and with that I gently close the car door and make my way to mine. Dorian waits until I am safely inside my Honda before pulling off. I quickly start it up and pull away before risking a repeat of the night before.
Chapter Six
“Where the hell have you been?” Morgan shrieks from my phone. I’m lying on my bed, flicking mindlessly through the channels on my bedroom TV.
“I’ve been around. I called you earlier… Didn’t you get my message?” I decide on some train wreck reality housewives show.
“Uh, yeah, and I’ve called you back at least a dozen times since then!” She’s still fired up, no doubt being overly dramatic as always.
“No you didn’t. I only got one missed call and I called you back as soon as I got back home!” Now, I’m getting annoyed.
“Gabs, I swear it. I’ve been calling you all day. Even went by the mall to see you at work and your boss said you’d left early.” She sounds worried so I remove the phone from my ear and take another look at hit. Nope, only one missed call.
“Humph, guess my phone is on the fritz. Sorry. What’s up, girl?”
“I was just worried. And you said you have something juicy to share!” I can hear the familiar clinking of her oversized earring on the receiver.
“Well, kinda,” I reply sheepishly. “I’ve been seeing Dorian.”
“Dorian? Dorian who?” I hear her rustling through what sounds like her makeup bag. “Wait! Not the guy from the club? That Dorian?!” she exclaims.
“Yes, that Dorian,” is all I can say before she yips a combination of praise and expletives.
“Oh. My. God. Gabs, that is awesome! Whew! So I guess he’s not as creepy as he appeared to be on Thursday, huh?”
“No, not as creepy. Though I must say he is quite intense. Not to mention intimidatingly sexy. I straight up lose my head around him,” I admit. And I would love to lose my panties as well.
“Well if anyone can handle him, it’s you. I’m just so happy for you! So you’ve gone on a date with him? How was it? Did you guys hook up? Oooh, you dirty ho!” she squeals excitedly.
“Well, actually we’ve been on two dates. And what do you mean by ‘hook up’? Did we have sex? Hell no! I just met the guy.” But do I want to? Hell yes! Morgan doesn’t need to know all that though.
“But you like him, right? Two dates in two days is pretty major for you, Miss No Dude Will Ever Be Good Enough… other than Jared, that is,” she snickers.
“I never said that! Just no guys are really worth getting serious with. And what do you mean, other than Jared?” Oh crap. Am I that transparent? I’ve never disclosed how I felt about Jared.
“Mmmm hmmm, you might be able to fool everyone else, but I know my girl. Seems like Dorian might change all that though. Look at you… already flaking on your friends for him!” I know she’s joking but I can’t help but feel some irritation. I’ve never been that type of girl. “Anyway, are you getting ready?”
“Ready? For what?”
“Uh, do you not know what today is? It’s St. Patrick’s Day! You know we’re all going to O’Malley’s tonight!” she says is disbelief.
Shit! I totally forgot. And I really, really don’t feel like going. Not to mention, I still haven’t lived down last year’s fiasco.
“Awww, Morg, can’t I pass this year? I’m really tired.” I whine.
“Hell no, you cannot! It’s a tradition! And you had enough energy to play kissy face with Mr. Hot Ass. You are going, Gabriella Winters!” she shouts. Ugh, Morgan can be a total pain in my ass when she wants to be.
“Fine! Fine! But I am not driving! If I have to go, I will be getting insanely wasted and will probably embarrass you…Again.” I lie. There’s no way I can risk being banned from one of the only bars in town that hardly ever cards, making it a legendary college coed hotspot.
“That’s cool, Jared offered to DD. We’ll be by to get you at 10.” And with that, Morgan hangs up. I look at the clock and decide I can squeeze in a nap and still have time to get ready. Only Morgan needs three hours of preparation for a night out. Besides, it’s St. Patty’s Day. As long as you wear green, you’re good.
**********
It’s 9:45, I’ve slept too long and I’m scrambling to get ready. I’m showered, half-dressed, and hopping around with a flat iron sizzling in my hair when my cell perks to life.
“On our way, Gabs! Are you ready?” Jared shouts over loud music and laughter. I can hear Morgan in the background; she’s already started the party.
“Ummm, I will be. I still have a few minutes, right?” I stammer. I’ve got on my top but only pink lacey panties clothe my bottom. Not to mention, I haven’t even touched my face. I look a hot damn mess.
“Yeah, I’m swinging by to get Miguel then we’ll come and get you. Damn, girl, feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Jared’s voice sounds husky, full of emotion. Is he ok? It’s only been a couple days.
“Well, I’ll be ready and waiting.”
Thirteen minutes later, I am dressed in tight black jeans, a dark green low cut top and heeled boots. My hair is bone straight down my back and my makeup is flawless. Pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.
“Wow. You look great, Gabs,” Jared says, gathering my frame into a bear hug. He’s always been affectionate, but something else is in his embrace. His hands grip my skin, gently caressing the surface. It’s weird, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it felt good. I’ve been longing for his touch for years.
“You too,” I squeak against his solid chest, only the thin fabric of his polo shirt separating my mouth from his nipple. I breathe in his freshness. As always, he smells of Irish Spring soap, fitting for this occasion. He releases me from his grip, holding me at arms-length to observe my body. I do the same and note that he’s wearing a green striped polo, blue jeans and fresh white Nikes. His chestnut locks have been freshly trimmed and his green eyes twinkle brighter than ever. It feels like I haven’t seen him in months, though it’s been a mere two days.
Honk! Honk! Morgan lays on the car horn, relaying her impatience and scaring the crap out of Jared and me.
“Come on! Let’s go!” she hollers from the front seat. I can see she’s donned in hunter sequins, way too dressy for O’Malley’s but you can’t tell her that. I grab my purse and coat and we make our way down the driveway, ready for pitchers of green beer, loud music and a few laughs to make me forget missing Dorian for the next six days. And that there’s a vicious killer tracking me.
O’Malley’s is in full swing when we arrive, and it doesn’t disappoint. Rock music blares through the speakers, and there’s a beer pong tournament
underway. It’s an endless river of green and many of the college girls are determined to wear as little of it, or anything else for that matter, as possible.
We find a table and settle in before it gets too crowded and becomes standing room only. Jared, James, and Miguel bound up to the bar to order pitchers of beer while Morgan and I scope out the scene. Mostly coeds from the numerous colleges and universities in town fill the bar and many are obviously on the hunt to find someone to occupy their bed tonight. We get a few glances from random men but no one has the chance to approach us before our handsome entourage returns with drinks.
And handsome they are. Jared is a tall wall of hard muscle in his fitted polo. I love how the fabric stretches over his mountainous biceps, accentuating his impressive build. Soccer and weight training has really done his body good. James is a bit taller than his baby brother but not as built. Being a competitive swimmer, he’s in impeccable shape but a bit on the thin side for my tastes. He shares the same green eyes and auburn locks as Jared though he wears them shorter. Miguel is shorter than the two yet stocky and built like a football player, his sport of choice. His bronze skin, almond eyes and dark, glossy tresses make him desirable to most of the female population, but he’s always just been Jared’s friend in my eyes.
The guys pour us mugs of beer and we all toast to an awesome St. Patty’s Day. Jared sips his free soda, compliments of the bar, since he’s been appointed the designated driver for the evening. Hours later, after a couple drinking games and shots, we’re all feeling jovial and festive and I’ve hardly thought about Dorian, my evil pursuer, or much else for that matter. Jared and I have retreated back to the table after a game of darts and are sharing a basket of curly fries. Miguel and James have entered the beer pong tournament are doing pretty well. Morgan is entertaining a nearby table of frat boys and they are eating out of the palm of her hand. Thanks to her, I haven’t had to pay for a drink all night.
“Gabs! Come join us!” she calls over to us. The guys are holding up their drinks as if to air-toast with me. I hold up my glass of water in return and shake my head. Time to sober up. No need to have a repeat of last year. Morgan shrugs and goes back to mesmerizing the guys with her charms.