Page 10 of One Twisted Christmas

“Uh?” I look up to find both Fabian and the Valet staring at me. I flush at being caught spacing out.

“Are you sure you are okay?”

No, I don't think so. There are parts of me that ache with the need for relief and I don't know what to do about it. No, I don't think I'm okay. "I'm fine," I say with a smile. It would be insane to say otherwise.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, I…" I clear my throat, brushing my hair from my shoulder. "I think I ate a little too fast and my stomach hurts a little. Do you… um, do you think… we could take a little walk before you drive me home?"

Fabian scrutinizes me for a second before he nods to the valet who climbs back into the car and drives off, leaving us standing outside. I shuffle nervously in my heels, afraid to look up and see the look on my date's face but then he slides his hand around my waist, sending goosebumps licking up my body. I bite back a whimper when the hand tightens on me and the spot between my legs pulse wildly at the move.

“My penthouse is a fifteen-minute walk from here, do you think you can handle it?”

God yes!

I bite back the relieved sigh that tries to escape. Christ, he read me like a book. I should have been a little subtle with the lustful looks I have been throwing his way since dinner ended and ona typical day, my need would embarrass me but I can’t find it in me to be ashamed, so I nod.

“I can handle a fifteen-minute walk.”

***

I can in fact, not handle a fifteen-minute walk.

In my defense, I didn’t think I would spend the entire time with the man rubbing his massive hand on my waist and fueling the fire burning inside of me. He must’ve known what it was doing to me! The torture he was putting me through.

“We’re here.”

I let Fabian guide me into the lobby and my head barely registers on anything or anyone we see as we zero in for the elevators. No one tries to stop the man and the butterflies in my stomach suddenly start fluttering when we step into the elevator.

Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. For a long time, I closed off the idea of sex after the whole fiasco that happened two years ago with that jerk at my prom. I never wanted to open up to anyone ever again and now I am about to walk into this man's penthouse. A man I only met today and I am not under any illusions that he's bringing me into his home to share a cup of coffee with me and talk local politics.

We’re going to have sex.

I look up at the tall man and question how he would react if he found out I’ve never quite been intimate with anyone before. Would that turn him away? Make him want to take me home and not deal with the complications a virgin brings to the table.

Fabian turns to look at me and I quickly withdraw my gaze, staring straight and trying to shove back the panic that surfaces.That and the insecurity of this man not wanting me as much as I want him.

The elevator doors open to reveal a massive hallway and there's that hand on my waist again. As we step out of the elevator, I'm immediately enveloped by the rich scent of polished wood and a hint of something floral. It soothes me a bit. The hallway is bathed in soft, warm light with sleek modern décor, but I would expect nothing less from this man.

At the end of the hall, near a massive door stands an expansive floor–to–ceiling window that showcases a breathtaking view of the city skyline, the twinkling lights of the buildings, and snow falling creating a dazzling backdrop.

Fabian pauses in front of a door and with a few swift movements, he enters the code on the keypad beside the door. I can feel the flutter in my stomach grow as the door clicks open, revealing a spacious living area but my eyes are on the massive window that reveals more of the city.

“Helena?”

I pull my gaze away from the massive window and to the man standing next to me, watching me with such heat I can practically feel it burn into my skin. “Your home is lovely.”

His mouth twitches into a smile. "And you can tell that from the door?" It's not until he mentions it that I realize that neither of us has stepped into his home. The open door reveals a little bit of his living room and that massive window. "Would you like to come in, and have some coffee?"

"No," I whisper, my eyes widening when I realize that he might misinterpret my words. "I mean, I don't want coffee. I would love to come in. I just don't want coffee. I don't like it. I have never quite liked the taste, really. I find coffee tastes bitter nomatter how much sugar one puts in it and… I'm blabbering. Sorry."

“Wine?”

“I don’t want that either.”

“Are you going to make me list everything I have in the house, or will you tell me what you want.”

“You!” I blurt out, my heart racing as the words slip out. but I don’t backtrack. I swallow rapidly and try to calm the harsh beating of my heart because as much as I want this, it scares me a little. Christ, I want this so bad. This man. I haven’t felt this way about someone before, but I want this – want him.

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