Page 10 of Ordinary Girl

He closes the door of a room he called the chapel behind him: it’s a kind of meeting room, apparently, and I turn around to face him. “Why do you do it?”

He frowns slightly. “Do what?”

“Pretend to be someone else?”

He laughs slightly, bowing his head for a couple of beats before his eyes lock back on mine. “You trying to analyze me?”

“No. Just curious.”

“I am what I am, and this club, it’s in my blood. But I don’t always want to be around the people who hang out here twenty-four-seven. I like to try new things.”

“Is that whatIam? A new thing?”

He laughs again. Turns his head away briefly, again.

“Do I make you nervous?”

His head shoots back around, and I smile as he moves toward me. “Nothing makes me nervous, sweetheart. Not even you.”

My heart’s beating out a heavy rhythm as he stops a little way in front of me. And I’m trying to fight the attraction I feel for this man with every fiber of my being, but it feels like I’m losing. Am I really that weak? I’m flirting, and I shouldn’t be doing this. What kind of example am I setting Ana? But Ana isn’t here, is she? She isn’t here, and what she doesn’t know…

“So, do I get to call you my new accountant?” he asks, taking another step forward, and I feel my heart beat that little bit harder, almost throwing itself against my ribs.

“Yournew accountant? I thought I’d be working for the club?”

The corner of his mouth twists up into a smirk, and he reaches out, cups my cheek in his palm and leans in to kiss me: the softest, briefest of kisses that completely belies everything he appears to be. Now. The first time I met him, the man he seemed to be, then, this is the kind of kiss I would’ve expected fromhim. But not this man in front of me. And as he pulls away from me slightly, I just have time to stop myself from gasping like some love-struck teenager. Is this why Ana goes for this type of man? Are they so different, so completely wrong that it becomes insanely hot? Even for a woman ofmyage?

You’re thirty-nine.

You’re not dead yet…

“You’ll be working for the club,” he whispers, backing me up against the huge wooden table in the center of the room. “But you’ll answer tome.” And as he drops his hand and touches my thigh I don’t stop him. I don’t remove his hand or push him away and I know I could still walk away from this.Shouldwalk away from this, because I don’t do this. This isn’t me, I haven’t slept with a man in over two years, I haven’t wanted to. There’ve beenother things I’ve needed to concentrate on. But Skip Larsen, he’s woken something up inside of me that’s been dormant for far too long. Yes, I have shit to sort out, but I’m starting to do that now, aren’t I? With Skip’s help. I’m starting to do that…

I bite down on my lip to, once more, stop that girlish gasp from escaping, I’m a grown-up: an adult. Someone who should know better, but I can’t stop this now, I actuallywantto do this. Me. Sofia Sorenson, the good girl.

The one who got herself knocked-up at sixteen? To a man who didn’t give a fuck about her, or his child?

Yeah. Right. I was a good girl…

He rests his hand against the side of my neck, pushes my head back slightly, his lips grazing the base of my throat with kisses that gradually become harder, more insistent as his mouth travels up toward mine. I close my eyes and forget everything else, Ihaveto forget everything else otherwise I probablywouldstop this, but for a few beautiful minutes I don’t want to be sensible, I don’t want to be a mama or the woman who’s trying desperately to sort out her messed-up life. I want to shut all that down, for a little while, and just be me. A woman who hasn’t been touched by a man in too long.

I lift my hips up slightly, let him tug down my panties, and for the briefest of seconds, a moment that’s barely there, I wonder if now’s the time to stop this. Before it goes too far… I ignore it, that moment, and as I wrap my legs around his hips: feel him gently push inside me, I smile. I lean back, moan quietly as his fingers dig into my thighs: as he thrusts into me, slowly at first, but then the pace quickens. It’s fast, but he isn’t hurting me, he isn’t being too forceful, and I’m taking it. All of it, I want him. Skip Larsen. This man who’s still a stranger to me, I want him to fuck me, like this. And as I feel him tense up, feel him climax, spilling out inside of me, there’s no guilt. No shame. Butas our breathing slows down: as I look at him, knowing what we’ve just done… Yeah. I’m scared. Whathavewe just done…?

“Do you want me to apologize?” He smiles, and I smile back. No. I don’t want him to apologize.

I shake my head, run my fingers lightly across the back of his neck, I’m choosing to ignore the fear. “So, what do we do now?”

He leans in to me, kisses my mouth, and I like the fact he tastes of stale smoke and beer. “We have one hell of a time together. That’s what we do.”

Okay. Now I reallydofeel like some love-struck teenager, but I need to pull myself together. Reality is slowly starting to creep back in. Skip hired me to do a job, and these men, you wrong them, in any way, and the consequences aren’t good. Am I really in danger, if I mess anything up? I think I am, despite this. Despite what we’ve just done. Sex with Skip doesn’t make me immune, I’m not stupid, I understand the situation I’m in. Or, at least, I’m beginning to.

He steps back from me, reaches down to retrieve my discarded panties and hands them to me. I take them, slip them back on and he watches me, which makes me shiver. I like that he’s watching me.

He jerks his head back, beckons me over, and I step into his arms, his hand falling lightly onto the small of my back, pressing me against him.

“And just for the record, beautiful, the sex was way better than okay.”

Joel

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