Page 30 of Falling in Between
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Ididn't finish the Chinese. Instead, I grabbed a sandwich from a deli on my way home to get ready, and now I'm standing in front of my mirror, convincing myself that I can do this. Whatever the hell it is that I'm about todo.
Drinks.
I'm just having drinks with a seductive man in a designersuit.
For the first time in probably five years, I took over an hour to get ready, and I almost don't recognize myself. Red lips, smoky eyes. A form-fitting black dress and heels. And I'm nervous ashell.
The doorbell chimes and I inhale, wiping my sweaty palms over my thighs on the way to theentrance.
Bon Jovi's “Living on A Prayer” spills in when the door swings open. As loud as the music is, all I can focus on is Elijah and the way his broad shoulders strain against the pressed, light blue dress shirt he'swearing.
His gaze drags over me. “Stunning,” he says, his voice low andgravelly.
Anticipation mounts in my chest. I'm going to be forced to make conversation and laugh and not embarrass myself by fucking him. I close the door behind me and check that it'slocked.
Just before we reach the stairwell, Whitesnake cutson.
“Good song,” Elijahchuckles.
“My neighbor's seventy and nearly deaf. You didn't see her on your wayin?”
“No.”
“That's surprising. Sometimes she struts around in front of the window in herunderwear.”
“Is she an exhibitionist?” he asks, holding the frontdoor.
I skirt under his arm and inhale the masculine scent of his cologne. God, men and their damn cologne. “I'm almost one hundred percent positive sheis.”
“You say that like it's a badthing.”
I carefully make my way down the steps in my unsteady heels. “I mean, it's not my thing,but—”
“So, you've had people watch you havesex?”
I stumble through the open gate. “I mean…No.”
One side of his lips tilt up before he motions me toward the black Tesla idling at the curb. That was his car the other night. “Then how can you say it's not yourthing?”
“There's nothing about someone else watching me have sex that I find appealing, and try as you may, you won't convince me otherwise.” I give him a quick glance. “Besides, I'm prettygraceless.”
“Oh, I wouldn't call yougraceless…”
When we reach the edge of the sidewalk, a driver hops out of the Tesla and hurries to open the door. I thank the man and slide across the leatherseat.
“A chauffeur?” I smirk when Elijah climbs in, the door closing behind him. “You're that big of adeal?”
“Or maybe I'm that big of a liability behind thewheel.”
I'll give him that; he’s cute. “All right, well, remind me to never ride withyou.”
The car pulls onto the street, and we weave through the New York traffic, dodging taxis and courageous pedestrians. The vehicle crawls through the bustling financial district, the only sound the hum of the pavement under thetires.
I hate silence like this. It makes me fidgety, and soon, I find myself fiddling with the hem of mydress.
Nervously, I glance up. Elijah's hazel eyes narrow slightly. The way he studies me reminds me of the way Michael Hall's character inDexterexamines his victims after they've been Saran Wrapped on his kill table—or maybe the way James Dean studies a woman before he fucks her. It’s impossible not to notice how that man looks at a woman. I'm not sure whether I should be unnerved or turned on—but, at the moment, it's an odd combination ofboth.
