NIGHTCAP
Eric hated watching Juliet get on that elevator. He hated the way she looked at him with uncertainty and he hated that he didn't kiss her. Was that what she was waiting for? Should he have done it?
All he knew was that if he had kissed her, he wouldn't have been able to stop.
Despite the awkward goodnight, a smile crept across his face as he locked the door. Tonight had been amazing. It was adorable the way she tried so hard to fight the things she wanted. It was a little sad, maybe, but definitely adorable. When she gave in to the ice cream, he couldn't describe the way that simple act had made him feel. He wanted her to trust him, he wanted her to want to be around him. He knew it would take time and he was willing to be patient with her--one ice cream sundae at a time.
Replaying the night's events over and over in his head, grinning harder at her compliments on his living room ceiling, he rinsed out the used dishes and deposited them into the dishwasher. Once the kitchen was clean, he headed to his bedroom, passing the living room en route, and smiled again at the TV. He chuckled to himself at her fear that porn would come up on the screen when he turned it on. Her facial expression had been priceless. However, upon taking his clothes off and standing underneath the hot shower, his mind had taken a more suggestive turn as he reminisced about a conversation they'd had at dinner.
Naturally, one thought led to another and, before he knew it, the only thing on his mind was the one thing that stayed on his mind nearly every waking moment--the memory of Juliet's naked body. Her stomach was a sexy, smooth, silky slate of beautiful skin. The hips below her stomach widened just enough for him to have something to hold on to for the ride--a feature which he'd most certainly utilized during their night together. Her thighs were strong, an obvious result of her wall climbing, and her legs were long and shapely and he longed to run his hands along them again. Above her waist were her breasts, so perfectly proportioned to the bottom half of her body, her figure was the hourglass shape most men dreamed of. He didn't care that her chest wasn't natural. It still belonged to her and the woman didn't have a single part of her body that wasn't an absolute turn-on to him.
The memory of the way she felt underneath his hands and against his tongue was enough for him to take himself in his hand and let his eyes roll back into the darkness behind his lids. He let the hot water pour down his face, not caring that it even rained down on him at all. As he stroked himself, he began to remember what it felt like inside her and he let out a sigh, allowing his mind to wander freely.
He should have taken advantage of the way she lingered in his bedroom doorway before he'd lured her back into the kitchen. Was he really that big of a moron? What he wouldn't have given to have laid her out across his bed, stripped her clothes off of her, and did all the unheard-of things he could think of just to hear her moan for him. He wondered if he would ever have that opportunity again. The more he daydreamed, the more creative his imagination became. After only a few short minutes, he'd finished, recovered, and focused on the rest of his shower.
He had just finished drying himself, having pulled on a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, when his doorbell rang.
As he headed for the door in confusion, it dawned on him in mid-stride: Damn it! He hadn't given Juliet the contract! Making a mental note to retrieve it from his desk drawer and to call her in the morning to arrange a time to get it to her, he unlocked the multiple locks, opened the door and stopped short.
"Juliet," he said, blinking with surprise.
She stood there, wide-eyed, clutching the black bag that hung on her shoulder. "I don't know how to do this," she blurted suddenly. "I don't...like people, I don't...I don't like men, specifically, but--but I like you. I like you like...I don't know, just different. And I understand that we have a business relationship now--and I have strong feelings about those things. But the truth is, I--I don't know what to do right now, I don't know how to--to feel things. All I know is that every time I look at you, I just want to be close to you. And that...that's very scary for me."
Eric stared back at her, baffled. How far had she gotten before she came back? Had she been thinking of him this entire time? He didn't want to get his hopes up, but his heart was already there.
Finally, he blushed and ran a hand through his hair. "So you...you like me?"
"Yes," she answered, her tone flat and deliberate.
"Uh, wow," he said, smiling sheepishly. "And, here, I thought you just came back for the contract."
It was apparent by the way her jaw dropped and the realization took over her face that she'd completely forgotten about the contract, a notion that they both knew was completely uncharacteristic of her. He was touched, however, because her forgetting the contract ultimately meant that since they'd come back to his apartment, her attention had been solely on him. His heart immediately pounded at this realization.
Juliet started to sputter. "Um, well, um--I mean, I suppose we could look over it." Then she looked him over and laughed sheepishly. "You know what? I'm disturbing you, you're trying to go to bed. Obviously. Um, I should probably be doing that, too. We'll just, um, maybe tomorrow..."
"Tomorrow's Saturday."
"Right," she blushed.
He studied her face, charmed by her sudden nervousness. "Once that clock strikes five every day, Reynolds Construction doesn't exist. I don't do business after normal hours. I don't visit worksites, I don't check emails...and I don't review contracts. You got that?"
"I'm so sorry," she said, flustered. "I guess sometimes I forget that not everyone works the way I do--"
He smirked at her. "My point is, right this very moment, you and I do not have a business relationship. Not until eight o'clock Monday morning."
She blinked at him, dumbfounded. After a moment of silence, she adjusted the work bag on her shoulder and shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Good," she finally smiled. "Because I really want to see that view of the city you were telling me about."
His smile widened and his body longed to jump around in excitement as a child would do on Christmas morning. He managed to stay cool and collected, however, and he stepped out of the way to allow her to enter his apartment once again. "All you had to do was say the word."
She walked in, the air of confidence she wore earlier in the evening seeming to have worn off and was replaced with a nervous meekness that he found both enduring and a little aggravating. He'd never seen her without her chin in the air before, save for two weeks ago when she ate appetizers in her bed, wearing nothing but a sweater and his socks. That was where he wanted to be again. Comfortable like that with her, where they laughed and they talked with ease, without reserve or judgment. That one night that he'd spent with her was the most perfect example he would probably ever find of what he wanted the rest of his life to be like. The awkwardness that was in the air right now? He was done with it.
He closed the door behind her, making sure to relock every single lock, securely, one-by-one. He didn't anticipate opening this door again for the rest of the night.
______________________________________________________
What in the hell was she doing? Juliet had lost her mind, she'd determined. Somewhere between Eric's place and hers, sometime after she'd rounded the corner onto her street, she'd made the decision to turn around. As she'd made her way back to his building, she had absolutely no plan. No rhyme, no reason, no excuse--she had nothing. Nothing but a desire and a temptation and a longing that was too incessant to ignore.
Now she stood in his kitchen, looking around as if she were having deja vu, wondering if she'd made the right decision in coming back. It was bad enough that she'd humiliated herself with that pathetic display she'd just put on in front of him. Why couldn't she just be normal? Why couldn't she just be herself?
Because the truth was, she had no idea what the definition of normal was and she had no idea who she was in regards to having feelings for the opposite sex. At thirty-three years old, this was foreign and new and she was ashamed of herself. Was she even human?
"Feel free to put your stuff wherever you want," he offered her. "Should I take your coat again?"
"Yes, please," she smiled.
He helped her remove it from her shoulders, just the way a perfect gentleman should. The gesture melted what was left of her heart and she knew then that she'd made the right decision. Tonight, right now, there was no other place she wanted to be.
It didn't help her nerves, however, as he led her to his bedroom. Of course the window was in his bedroom--where else would it be? She tried to concentrate on his body as she followed along. Honestly, in this t-shirt and sweats and his bare feet? She had never seen him look sexier. There was no tuxedo, no Armani suit, no perfectly-fitting jeans that could come close to comparing to the way he looked as he padded across his floor, running his hand comfortably through his hair. She bit her bottom lip as they approached his doorway.
Suddenly, he halted abruptly and turned around, bracing himself on the doorway's woodwork. "You're about to walk into my bedroom."
Her nerves returned with full force and her eyes darted around. "Well...well, yes, you said the view from here...I mean, I'm sure it's just as nice from a different room--"
"It's sacred in here. It's my sanctuary. Things happen in here, very...unnatural and obscene things. Very personal."
Finally, she picked up on his bullshit and she smirked at him. "Yeah. With yourself."
"Hey," he said with hurt in his eyes. "I'm vulnerable in here."
"Right. Like you would know vulnerable if it bit you in the ass. Excuse me." She helped herself to removing one of his arms from the doorway and walked right past him. Behind her, she heard him snicker and she smiled and rolled her eyes.
The king-sized bed looked like a mere ornament in the bedroom. The three walls that adorned the room were the warm shade of red brick and the leather headboard on the bed nearly matched the chocolate brown hardwood below them, the same hardwood that adorned the living room floor. Juliet was surprised to find no television in this room, only one chest of drawers, and a small doorway on the opposite wall that she could only assume was his closet. Beyond the closet was the master bath, and she only knew that because the door hung open into it. Near the curtained-window was a Victorian-style, chaise lounge chair made from dark brown leather and a small table that sat next to it. Besides the bedside tables on each side of the bed, the room boasted no other furniture or décor, save for a random abstract piece or two that hung on the walls.
Juliet lost herself in the unfortunate waste of impeccable designing space in this room and her mind was already brimming with ideas. She must have been deeper in her imaginary decorating than she thought she was because she was brought forcefully back to reality when Eric's voice gently said, "Juliet?"
"Huh?" She answered blankly.
"Where'd you go?"
She looked around for a moment and then she blushed. "Oh! Oh, um...you don't have much going on in this room, do you?"
He shrugged and he looked around. "It's a bedroom. I mean, you sleep in here. I got my underwear in a drawer and my soap in the shower. What more do I need?"
Her eyes widened as she looked around again. "Why do you need this much space if you're not going to use it?"
"Honestly? Because I wanted to do the ceiling. I have plans for this place. Before it's over with, the entire apartment's ceiling will look just like the living room does, I'm going to knock down a good bit of these walls and open it up more in here. Make it look more like a loft. I always wanted to live in a loft."
"Why didn't you?"
He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling. "Because it's more fun to make my own."
His smile was infectious and she felt her own warm smile cross her face. "You really love what you do, don't you?"
"Of course I do," he said, looking around them. "It's why I run the company."
Something in his tone sounded uncomfortably forced and she decided to quit with the subject while she was ahead. Instead, she focused her attention on the oversized curtain and grinned with delight. "So, can we open the curtain now? I feel like this is some big...Christmas gift or something."
He nodded toward the bed. "Yeah, if you go hit the lights."
Juliet wasted no time clicking off the lamps on either side of the bed. It took Eric two hands to walk each panel of the curtain to the opposite walls. Walking up on the sight, her heart stopped and her eyes grew big. "Eric, this is gorgeous!" She breathed in awe.
Being on the top floor of an East 60th Street building had its advantages, the view being the most important one. The pair stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall view of New York City, the lights glittering in the night sky as far as the eye could see. She had seen plenty of views of the city in her time as a resident, but never in such a capacity as this. Never in the warmth of a home, next to a beautiful man whom she was growing to adore, feeling secure and safe...feeling things she hadn't felt in a very long time, if ever. She was finding it hard to believe that this was her life right now. That she was here, that it was real. That standing here next to her, amongst the sparkling Manhattan skyline, was a man--gorgeous and good and sweet--who seemed to want her exactly the way she was, faults, horrific past, and all. Why was this so hard for her when the decision was so easy? Why couldn't she allow herself to fall?
She had stood in silence for awhile, she knew, taking in the city and pondering her life. Eric had been patient and quiet the entire time, but she supposed one had to tire from the silence eventually. "You know what my favorite part about this is?" He asked quietly. "It's overcast outside, and the lights are literally lighting up the sky. That always fascinated me."
"It's brighter when it snows," she pointed out.
"It is. You should see it snow from up here."
She turned and she smiled at him, silently letting him know that she would love that. Then she grew serious as she looked back out over the city. "I need the chance to figure myself out. I need the opportunity to learn on my own. I don't--I don't really know who I am anymore. I thought I did. But I don't. But I think I'm...finally growing tired of being alone...and I didn't know that until you came along. I don't know anything about relationships. I don't know what I want out of them, but I know what I don't want--and I'm not sure you're capable of that. I'm not the easiest person in the world to deal with and I would need to take things painfully slow. But...but if you're willing to be patient with me, I'd like to get to know you more. On a personal level, I mean. Not just business."
Juliet's breathing stopped short after her last word. She was already second-guessing herself, wondering if she should have revealed feelings like that to him or not. When he didn't answer her immediately, she grew nervous, her palms sweating and her heart racing. The conspiracy theorist in her was already putting thoughts into his head.
When he finally spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Well," he waged. "When you're not screaming at me or returning expensive gifts or insulting my choice of diet, I find you quite delightful." Then his voice softened. "In all seriousness, though, Juliet--getting to know each other is really all I've wanted since the first night I laid eyes on you."
Her eyes gazed at the city before her. How did a moment get more romantic than this? He was so sincere and honest--despite her various accusations otherwise. The only way it got more romantic was engaging in the one act she'd dreamed about since the night it happened.
Looking to her side, her eyes falling on his hand, she carefully reached over and took a light hold on his forearm and pulled him ever so slightly toward her. Instantly picking up on her intentions, he stepped forward as she turned into him, pulling his arm listlessly to her waist. As their lips met, soft and sweet as she remembered the first time, he wrapped his arm tighter around her and let his other hand rest on her shoulder.
She held his face in her hands, taking what she wanted from him, unable to get enough. In the glow of the city lights, she tasted freedom on his lips, smelled it on his breath, and felt it in his arms. She slid her arms around his neck, melting happily into him, finally giving in to her own temptation, her head spinning with the intoxicating contentment that ran through her veins. Would it feel like this every time she kissed him? Did they ever have to stop? Could she kiss him forever?
Apparently not. He broke their kiss long enough to smile against her lips and nudge his nose against hers, that familiar gesture that caused her to blink at him with dream-filled eyelids. "Admit it," he whispered playfully. "This is what you really came back for."
"You caught me," she conceded, breathlessly, claiming his lips once more. She deepened the kiss, letting out a slight whimper as his intensity matched hers, her body building up an excitement that she desperately needed to suppress.
Again, he read her actions almost immediately and his hands began to grow restless as he held her tighter against him. It was when he attempted to untuck her blouse from her pencil skirt that she felt the need to put on the brakes. She braced her hands against his chest, ignoring the fact that she could feel him underneath the thin, white material, and gently pushed herself away from him. "Eric," she objected. Then she looked up into his eyes, pausing to admire the way the lights from the window reflected in them. "I--you are, quite literally, the sexiest man I've ever had the joy of spending time with. And you turn me on like nothing I've ever felt before. But tonight, I just--can we just maybe...sit? And talk?"
It was too dark to tell, but she swore she saw him blush. His eyes darted toward the window and then back at her. "So, no 'and stuff?'"
She had to grin at the reference. She couldn't help herself. "No," she replied, shaking her head. "No 'and stuff.'"
To her relief, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we can do that."
Juliet melted the rest of the way into the floor. The only other thing she loved more than kissing Eric Reynolds--well, and having sex with him--was talking to him.
_______________________________________________
This night was shaping up to be way beyond Eric's expectations. The truth was, the most he expected to get out of dinner was a brisk "thank you" and for them to go their separate ways outside the restaurant door. The fact that they'd even ended up at his place at all was mind-blowing enough, and her coming back more or less finished him off. She'd kissed him, sending him shamelessly up to cloud nine, and now he sat on his Victorian chaise in front of the window with her tucked under his arm and her head against his chest. Go slow, she'd suggested? Absolutely. Anything she wanted. Anything that brought her one step closer to becoming his.
He smiled into the sparkling live scene in front of them and crossed his ankles on the floor below his feet. "I've never done this before," he remarked.
"Well, you did imply that you've never had a woman here before," she teased.
He nodded in agreement. "Embarrassingly enough, that's true. But I meant that I've never actually sat on this thing before. It's kinda nice. I should probably invest in an ottoman, though."
"Why do you own a piece of furniture that you never use?"
He furrowed his brow at the window and tightened his arm around her shoulders. He knew it was unfair of him to not want to tell her certain things about himself when she'd completely poured every ounce of her heart and soul out to him. He was comfortable with her--too comfortable for the little time they'd known each other--and in that moment, he wondered if this was what it felt like to be her. His skeletons weren't near as gruesome and horrific as hers were, but they were still uncomfortable. And still early enough for him to be upset at himself for being a fool and not able to pick up on the bullshit sooner.
Finally, he sighed and he gave in. If she could do it, so could he. "It's kind of a revenge piece," he confessed. "My, uh, my ex and I had been looking around in an antique store right before it, uh, it ended with us, and I saw this thing. I liked it. I liked the color, the texture, the style, everything about it. But she saw it and she immediately hated it. She hated it so much that she didn't stop telling me how much she hated it all the way home. So, after I moved out of our apartment, the first thing I did was double back and pick this lovely lady up. From that day forward I decided I was going to live my life the way I wanted to--with my furniture and my obnoxious TV and my junk food--and I never looked back. And now here we are. Everything happens for a reason, I suppose."
"Well," she said quietly, adjusting her position against him. "I love this thing. And I love your TV. And you make a mean ice cream sundae, so. I guess women suck just as much as men do, huh?"
"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "I don't suck. And you don't suck. So that can't make us all bad, right?"
"Can't argue with that. So, um...if you don't mind my asking...and you don't have to answer, I understand, because it's none of my business--"
"I'm an open book, darlin.' You can make anything your business that you want."
"Why is your ex your ex?"
"Well," he began, taking a deep breath. "After two years of what I thought we had was good, I was ready to propose to her. Bought the ring. Made dinner reservations. Came home to tell her about our dinner plans and...she's fucking our building's maintenance guy on our living room couch. I was so pissed off, I couldn't even be bothered to be hurt by it. I was packed up and out of that apartment in mere hours."
"Oh my god," Juliet breathed. "What a whore."
Eric chuckled. "My sentiments exactly."
"How could she be so stupid? Why would anyone want to cheat on you? I mean, after that night at my place...I'm a believer."
"And, yet, you shot me down tonight."
"Eric..."
"It's okay, I'd just finished jerking off in the shower before you rang the doorbell."
"Eric!" She scolded.
"What?" He laughed. "I mean, do you want honesty or not?"
"This conversation ends now," she murmured.
"Just when it started getting interesting." They were silent for a moment before he nudged her shoulders with his arm. "At least say my name again."
"Eric," she yawned.
"Wow," he deadpanned. "Wow. I was hoping for just a little more enthusiasm than that. You know, something along the lines of, 'Oh, Eric, you're the cutest guy I've ever met!' Or, 'Eric, you're so hilarious, I can't stop laughing!' While we're on the ego-stroking train and all. You can start with those. I'm listening."
Except that Juliet apparently wasn't. In fact, it was the staggering of her shoulders that accompanied the breath she'd taken in and sighed contentedly back out that let him know that she had actually drifted off to sleep. That fast. It had to be record time. Either that or she was just that exhausted.
A smile crossed his face as he stroked what he could reach of her arm. This was true happiness. At least tonight he would really get to fall asleep next to her. The first time he hardly remembered falling asleep at all. And in the morning they would wake up together, no leaving.
As he thought back on the night they met and then thought about tonight, he contemplated the definition of conventional. By the book, the way things had been going lately were certainly not conventional. There had been no formal dating procedure. There'd been no flowers, no cocktails, and no future plans made. There had only been sex, conversation, and a date he had to trick her into coming on. Was that conventional? Absolutely not. But this quirky little...friendship they were developing was all theirs. And he was perfectly fine with it.
He sat for another few minutes before he decided he should probably get her more comfortable. Reaching around with his free arm, he brushed her hair away from her face and whispered, "Jules."
She didn't respond, except to smack her lips a couple of times and snuggle deeper into his chest. He grinned at the action. This was a new one of her many faces he hadn't seen yet. Adorable didn't even cover it.
Still smiling, he nudged her again. "Juliet? Wouldn't you rather sleep in the bed?"
This time she didn't respond at all. The woman was gone.
He'd already gathered that she was a sound sleeper judging by the way she didn't budge the morning he had to leave her to go get Travis. It took some maneuvering, but he finally managed to scoop her up into his arms and carry her to his bed. Laying her down as gently as he could, he clicked on the lamp next to him and he looked at her. She was still in the clothes that she wore to dinner--probably the same clothes she'd worn to the office--and he couldn't very well let her sleep in them. He'd hoped to wake her up so she could remedy that problem, but he didn't see that happening, either. And, so, after more odd maneuvering, he managed to remove her existing articles, miraculously ignore the sinfully sexy black, lace bra and panties set she wore, and replace her designer duds with his own t-shirt that he'd sacrificed from his own body. He turned down the bed, tucked her into it, and clicked the lamp back off.
Walking around to the other side of the bed, he sat on the edge of it for a moment, meaning to get into it, but stopping to gather his thoughts. He had been exhausted not too long ago. But now he felt like he was wide awake again. Juliet was like a skittish deer in headlights. He'd gotten her to trust him enough to stick around and nibble out of his hand, but one false, sudden move could send her running for the hills at any given moment, it seemed. Part of him wanted to be awake for every single moment he could spend with her just so he could cherish the times that she didn't run away from him.
But, then, she was the one who came back. She was the one who kissed him. She did it. It was her. So how skittish was she, really?
Deciding that he really was as exhausted as he thought he was, he finally climbed into bed and made himself comfortable. There, in the glow of the city lights from a window he never opened due to the obnoxious morning light that came from it, he watched the gorgeous figure next to him sleep until his own eyes grew too heavy to hold open.
___________________________________________
Juliet's eyes opened slowly into a blur of darkness. She stretched herself out in the bed, noticing how good her bare legs felt against the unusual softness of the sheets underneath her. She was warm, she was snuggly, and she hugged herself, feeling her own forearms. She hadn't worn short sleeves that night.
A little more awake now, her eyes looked around slowly and she turned her head and faced New York's night sky as the city lights sparkled underneath it. She smiled sleepily at the sight. It was such a magnificent window, it was like it wasn't even real. It was almost as if she could go to one of the four corners and just peel the poster right off the wall. She wished she had taken a view into consideration when she'd bought her condo. Her best view was the brick wall of the building next door to hers. She couldn't even walk onto her balcony and get a glimpse of a view like this.
Slowly she sat up in the bed and looked over on the bed next to her. Eric slept on his side, his breathing deep and even. He didn't snore. And he could accuse her of snoring all he wanted, but she knew she didn't. She didn't even have allergies. But differences in opinion aside, he was just as adorable when he slept now as he was the last time she watched him sleep.
She turned her body toward the window, sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs crossed underneath her. She pulled the comforter around her waist and she yawned, tucking her hair behind her ear, and hugging herself as she stared out the window. Curiously, she looked down and pulled at the shirt that she wore, catching the clean scent of Eric's body as she lifted the material off of her skin. She furrowed her brow and then she allowed herself to smile as she turned around and snuck another peek at him. He was topless. He had literally given her the shirt off his back. Like the gentleman that he was, however, she was reminded by her bra's underwire that he had completely behaved himself while changing her clothes. She shook her head and turned back to the window, her hand digging into her back as she unhooked her bra and removed it from under the shirt. He wasn't supposed to defy the odds like he had been. He wasn't supposed to be the exception to her rule, the one man on earth who wasn't actually a filthy animal. She wasn't supposed to want to spend every moment of every day with him.
Suddenly, Eric's voice startled her, soft and thick with sleep. "Why are you awake?"
Turning around, she hunkered back down under the covers and lay on her side to face him as he scooted himself closer to her across his large bed. "I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered.
She could barely make out his face under the low glow from the window, but she saw the sparkle in his eye and heard the warmth in his voice. "I don't mind. Are you okay?"
"Just...a lot on my mind, I guess."
"Tell me."
"Go back to sleep," she smiled.
"No. Tell me."
She took a deep breath as she made herself more comfortable on the pillow. "You're so young," she observed as she gazed at him.
"I'm not that young," he retorted, sounding more alert now than before.
"I feel like I've lived fifty years. I feel like I could be your mother."
"I'm beginning to feel insulted..."
Her smile returned. "Don't feel insulted. It's...it's me, it's not you."
"Okay, yeah," he admitted. "So I'm a little younger. But not by that much."
"I've never been with a younger man before."
Bringing his pillow with him, he scooted himself even closer to her. "Well," he smiled as he reached over and crept his hand along her hip. "Allow me to explain to you the benefits of being with a younger man. We're...determined. Hungry. Strong. Agile..."
"Keep talking," she breathed.
His hand crept up under the bottom of her shirt and rested on her bare waist. "We're creative. Spontaneous. Fun. Protective..."
"All of you?"
"Just me," he grinned.
A mischievous smile crept across her face. "So...I guess I got lucky not ending up with your brother, then."
"Are you saying I was your last resort?"
Suddenly her heart pounded. Was that what that sounded like? She shouldn't have brought up his brother, that was stupid. Her eyes widened, painfully aware that she couldn't take back her idiot statement. "No. Never."
He let out a long sigh and rolled over onto his back, tucking an arm under his head as he stared at the ceiling. "I mean, it's okay if I was. I'm used to being the last resort. I don't think I'd know what to do with myself if I wasn't."
"Eric," she objected, propping her head up on her palm. "You were...you were always my first resort. Even when I didn't want you to be...you left me no choice."
"So why did you run?" He asked. "The restaurant, the benefit...even at your party, you completely ignored me. What did I do--?"
"You saw me. You--you looked at me like...I felt so exposed. I felt like you were looking at me and reading all my secrets. And I was willing to tell them to you. I was willing to--to surrender myself to you and I don't--I don't surrender, I don't give in, I don't--care. You make me want to care."
"It's okay to care, you know."
"I know," she said, her face falling. "I'm afraid."
"Yeah? Well, so am I," he spat. "There are two of us here, you know."
Suddenly, she was puzzled by his sudden change in attitude. She knew she'd said something stupid, but she hadn't meant to hurt his feelings--or even upset him. She didn't know what to say next. She felt like anything that might come out of her mouth could be a trigger--and to what, she didn't know. This was the part she feared. The not knowing. He'd been upset at her before, but there was always that moment--always that time when it could happen, when he could fall off the deep end. Instinctively, she felt herself scooting away from him just a little bit. She didn't like that feeling. Eric wasn't that man and she knew it. But she hated realizing that deep down, in a place she thought she'd buried long ago, the fear was still there.
As if on cue, he turned his head and looked at her. "Hey. Where are you going?"
Her eyes widened and she froze. She tried to leave once. Just once. He'd gone to bed drunk and she was lucky enough to have escaped a beating that night. She had it all planned out--even had a bag hidden away with a little bit of money stashed in it. He was so drunk, he would never know she was gone until morning. And by then she'd be far, far away. Unfortunately, though, he wasn't as passed out as she thought he was, because she wasn't even one foot out of the bed before he turned over and said, "Where do you think you're going?" She tried to lie and tell him she was going to the bathroom, but she couldn't get the words out and it was too late. In less than ten minutes, he had backhanded her, raped her, and collapsed in a drunken stupor on top of her. She shoved him off of her and she sobbed herself to sleep, him having never woken up again for the rest of the night. By then, it was too late. She was too afraid to take the chance again.
Her chest heaved with breath as Eric turned on his side to face her. "Jules?" He asked. "Are you okay? Do you need some water or something?"
She blinked at him for a moment, her mind and her body slowly returning themselves to the present and she shook her head.
Reaching over, he took her by the hand, laced his fingers in hers, and kissed her hand before pulling her toward him and resting himself on his back again. With his arm around her shoulder, he held her tight and let out a breath at the ceiling. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to sound like an asshole. I guess...I guess I have my own issues I'm dealing with. Just because I'm insanely good-looking and charming doesn't mean I'm perfect."
Finally, Juliet grinned against the warm skin of his chest, feeling ashamed of herself for even trying to associate him with anything that had happened in her past. Snuggling closer to him, tucking one of her feet between his shins, she let go of his hand and caressed his arm as it lay across his chest. "Tell me," she said quietly.
"Well," he began. "I'm technically the youngest of three--Travis is almost two minutes older than me--and I grew up my entire life knowing it. I was a late bloomer. Our older brother, Andy, he was your garden variety overachiever. Went into the military and made a career of it. Made Dad proud. Travis was light years ahead of me on everything. School, athletics, girls, you name it. Travis was the epitome of cool and I was...not."
"I find that a little hard to believe--you're twins."
"Yeah, well, I was the one who ended up with the shit end of the deal. Travis had the smarts. He played sports--"
"Wait. Travis had the smarts?"
"Yep. He's a certified genius. On paper. He lost valedictorian by, like, a hair or something, I dunno. Anyway, Dad doted on Travis--and Travis didn't even give a shit. He never studied, was always out partying, sleeping in class--and he could get by with murder. Me? I got the glasses, the braces, and the business mind. I didn't give a shit about sports and I was in love with my dad's construction business since day one. But he never took me seriously. I studied and worked my ass off, but it didn't matter. I always felt like 'Oh, Andy-this! Oh, Travis-that! Oh, yeah. There's that Eric kid.'"
"Yeah, but look at you now," she marveled. "Look who you became. You're gorgeous, you're successful, you're doing what you love to do. There are people out there who would kill to be in your shoes. I mean, hell, even look at this apartment--"
"It's family money," he admitted. "I didn't earn this apartment. I don't even really deserve it. The three of us were my grandfather's only grandchildren. So when he passed, he split his will three ways. Andy got the stocks, Travis got the properties, and I got the money--'because I'd probably need it the most.' Fuck, even my own grandfather didn't have any faith in me. So. Yeah. That's what I grew up with, that's what I go through now with the company. I mean, it's not like I feel sorry for myself. The struggle just gets so aggravating sometimes."
She turned over on her stomach so she could look at his face. "That's not fair to you. You shouldn't have to go through life constantly feeling like you have to prove yourself."
He lifted his head and raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah?"
She looked at him for a moment before her face fell in shame and she rested her cheek on the skin of his chest. She let out a breath. "It's really not you," she said quietly. "You're perfect. You really are. I'm the problem. I know I am." Then she lifted her head and looked up at him again. "But I believe in you. I know we haven't known each other for very long, but I do believe in you. I mean, I laid the future home of my company solely in your hands, didn't I? And I'm a tough one to crack."
Looking back at her, he studied her face as he reached over and twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers as if he were inspecting it. Then he turned over on his side, wrapped her in his arms, and he kissed her.
There wasn't supposed to be any sex tonight. She'd only wanted to talk. But in the softness of the sheets, under the glow of the night, and they way both of them wore next to nothing, she couldn't help the temptation. The truth was, she was instantly turned on at any given moment in his presence. She couldn't deny what she wanted.
As if he'd read her mind, Eric's hand drifted down to the lace panties that barely covered her. "Let's get these off of you," he breathed quietly into her mouth.
That was all the convincing she needed. Before she knew it, she was straddling him and he was peeling his own t-shirt off of her. Within seconds, Juliet was blissfully riding him into the night.
_________________________________________
The daylight flooded into the bedroom in full force, brightening the walls, despite their warm, deep color. There was a reason Eric kept the window's curtain closed on a daily basis and this was exactly it. He could barely open his eyes into the brightness.
And, so, he took a moment to close his eyes again and reflect. As he held Juliet in his arms, burying his face in her hair and inhaling the faint, floral scent of it, he listened to her light snoring and he smiled. She was so unbelievably adorable, even when she slept. Her peace now was completely the opposite of the way her voice cried out his name just hours earlier as he'd done things to her he knew she probably had never felt before. He'd made love to her twice--and where he found that kind of stamina, he had no idea. But his favorite part was when they sat up in bed, wrapped up in the comforter and each other, and watched the sun rise over the sky scrapers out the window. He'd never watched the sun rise out that window before. Watching it with Juliet for the first time was a moment in his life that he knew he would cherish forever.
Eric had no idea what time it was, and he found that he didn't really care. However, his stomach decided otherwise and he could only ignore it for so much longer. When he finally decided to throw his pants back on and head into the kitchen, she stirred when he let go of her. "Eric," she murmured into her pillow. "Don't leave me."
He leaned over her and draped her hair behind her neck. "Are you hungry?" He asked gently.
"Mmhmm."
"Want me to make you something?"
She didn't respond for a few seconds. Finally, she stretched her body out slowly and turned over on her back, clutching the comforter to her chest, smiling up at him sleepily. "Is this the part where you feed me some cheesy line about how I like my eggs in the morning or something?"
He grinned at her in amusement. "Well. It is a perfectly legitimate line. And I do have eggs."
"So you cook, too?" She asked with fascination.
He shrugged. "I'm a single man who lives alone. I gotta eat."
Her smile widened. "I'd love some eggs."
"I'll get right on it," he replied happily.
"Eric," she said, catching his arm as he moved. Now her expression was serious as she looked up into his eyes. "I just want you to know, this is...this is the happiest I've felt in a...really long time. And I'm glad I stayed for dinner. Because it was the best date I've ever been on, too. So, thank you. For everything."
He lifted her hand and clutched it in both of his as he kissed it. "You'll always get the best of everything from me, I promise." Then he grinned again. "Starting with those eggs."
As she giggled at him, he slid out of the bed and pulled his pants back on. He watched her watch him leave the room and as he made his way to his kitchen, he felt like he was on top of the world. Nothing could ruin his mood. Not a damn thing on the planet.
Except for Travis.
Eric paused and he stared, his open floor plan now a blessing and a curse. Travis hummed to himself happily, helping himself to the contents of his brother's refrigerator and munching on whatever his mouth was full of along the way. Eric was furious as Travis, lost in his own little culinary world, remained oblivious to his presence.
Finally, Eric's glare got the best of him and he didn't care that he'd startled Travis when he barked across the room, "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Looking up at Eric, a clueless grin flashed across Travis's face. "Breakfast."
Eric silently vowed that this would be Travis's last meal. And this time he meant it.
Eric hated watching Juliet get on that elevator. He hated the way she looked at him with uncertainty and he hated that he didn't kiss her. Was that what she was waiting for? Should he have done it?
All he knew was that if he had kissed her, he wouldn't have been able to stop.
Despite the awkward goodnight, a smile crept across his face as he locked the door. Tonight had been amazing. It was adorable the way she tried so hard to fight the things she wanted. It was a little sad, maybe, but definitely adorable. When she gave in to the ice cream, he couldn't describe the way that simple act had made him feel. He wanted her to trust him, he wanted her to want to be around him. He knew it would take time and he was willing to be patient with her--one ice cream sundae at a time.
Replaying the night's events over and over in his head, grinning harder at her compliments on his living room ceiling, he rinsed out the used dishes and deposited them into the dishwasher. Once the kitchen was clean, he headed to his bedroom, passing the living room en route, and smiled again at the TV. He chuckled to himself at her fear that porn would come up on the screen when he turned it on. Her facial expression had been priceless. However, upon taking his clothes off and standing underneath the hot shower, his mind had taken a more suggestive turn as he reminisced about a conversation they'd had at dinner.
Naturally, one thought led to another and, before he knew it, the only thing on his mind was the one thing that stayed on his mind nearly every waking moment--the memory of Juliet's naked body. Her stomach was a sexy, smooth, silky slate of beautiful skin. The hips below her stomach widened just enough for him to have something to hold on to for the ride--a feature which he'd most certainly utilized during their night together. Her thighs were strong, an obvious result of her wall climbing, and her legs were long and shapely and he longed to run his hands along them again. Above her waist were her breasts, so perfectly proportioned to the bottom half of her body, her figure was the hourglass shape most men dreamed of. He didn't care that her chest wasn't natural. It still belonged to her and the woman didn't have a single part of her body that wasn't an absolute turn-on to him.
The memory of the way she felt underneath his hands and against his tongue was enough for him to take himself in his hand and let his eyes roll back into the darkness behind his lids. He let the hot water pour down his face, not caring that it even rained down on him at all. As he stroked himself, he began to remember what it felt like inside her and he let out a sigh, allowing his mind to wander freely.
He should have taken advantage of the way she lingered in his bedroom doorway before he'd lured her back into the kitchen. Was he really that big of a moron? What he wouldn't have given to have laid her out across his bed, stripped her clothes off of her, and did all the unheard-of things he could think of just to hear her moan for him. He wondered if he would ever have that opportunity again. The more he daydreamed, the more creative his imagination became. After only a few short minutes, he'd finished, recovered, and focused on the rest of his shower.
He had just finished drying himself, having pulled on a white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, when his doorbell rang.
As he headed for the door in confusion, it dawned on him in mid-stride: Damn it! He hadn't given Juliet the contract! Making a mental note to retrieve it from his desk drawer and to call her in the morning to arrange a time to get it to her, he unlocked the multiple locks, opened the door and stopped short.
"Juliet," he said, blinking with surprise.
She stood there, wide-eyed, clutching the black bag that hung on her shoulder. "I don't know how to do this," she blurted suddenly. "I don't...like people, I don't...I don't like men, specifically, but--but I like you. I like you like...I don't know, just different. And I understand that we have a business relationship now--and I have strong feelings about those things. But the truth is, I--I don't know what to do right now, I don't know how to--to feel things. All I know is that every time I look at you, I just want to be close to you. And that...that's very scary for me."
Eric stared back at her, baffled. How far had she gotten before she came back? Had she been thinking of him this entire time? He didn't want to get his hopes up, but his heart was already there.
Finally, he blushed and ran a hand through his hair. "So you...you like me?"
"Yes," she answered, her tone flat and deliberate.
"Uh, wow," he said, smiling sheepishly. "And, here, I thought you just came back for the contract."
It was apparent by the way her jaw dropped and the realization took over her face that she'd completely forgotten about the contract, a notion that they both knew was completely uncharacteristic of her. He was touched, however, because her forgetting the contract ultimately meant that since they'd come back to his apartment, her attention had been solely on him. His heart immediately pounded at this realization.
Juliet started to sputter. "Um, well, um--I mean, I suppose we could look over it." Then she looked him over and laughed sheepishly. "You know what? I'm disturbing you, you're trying to go to bed. Obviously. Um, I should probably be doing that, too. We'll just, um, maybe tomorrow..."
"Tomorrow's Saturday."
"Right," she blushed.
He studied her face, charmed by her sudden nervousness. "Once that clock strikes five every day, Reynolds Construction doesn't exist. I don't do business after normal hours. I don't visit worksites, I don't check emails...and I don't review contracts. You got that?"
"I'm so sorry," she said, flustered. "I guess sometimes I forget that not everyone works the way I do--"
He smirked at her. "My point is, right this very moment, you and I do not have a business relationship. Not until eight o'clock Monday morning."
She blinked at him, dumbfounded. After a moment of silence, she adjusted the work bag on her shoulder and shifted her weight uncomfortably. "Good," she finally smiled. "Because I really want to see that view of the city you were telling me about."
His smile widened and his body longed to jump around in excitement as a child would do on Christmas morning. He managed to stay cool and collected, however, and he stepped out of the way to allow her to enter his apartment once again. "All you had to do was say the word."
She walked in, the air of confidence she wore earlier in the evening seeming to have worn off and was replaced with a nervous meekness that he found both enduring and a little aggravating. He'd never seen her without her chin in the air before, save for two weeks ago when she ate appetizers in her bed, wearing nothing but a sweater and his socks. That was where he wanted to be again. Comfortable like that with her, where they laughed and they talked with ease, without reserve or judgment. That one night that he'd spent with her was the most perfect example he would probably ever find of what he wanted the rest of his life to be like. The awkwardness that was in the air right now? He was done with it.
He closed the door behind her, making sure to relock every single lock, securely, one-by-one. He didn't anticipate opening this door again for the rest of the night.
______________________________________________________
What in the hell was she doing? Juliet had lost her mind, she'd determined. Somewhere between Eric's place and hers, sometime after she'd rounded the corner onto her street, she'd made the decision to turn around. As she'd made her way back to his building, she had absolutely no plan. No rhyme, no reason, no excuse--she had nothing. Nothing but a desire and a temptation and a longing that was too incessant to ignore.
Now she stood in his kitchen, looking around as if she were having deja vu, wondering if she'd made the right decision in coming back. It was bad enough that she'd humiliated herself with that pathetic display she'd just put on in front of him. Why couldn't she just be normal? Why couldn't she just be herself?
Because the truth was, she had no idea what the definition of normal was and she had no idea who she was in regards to having feelings for the opposite sex. At thirty-three years old, this was foreign and new and she was ashamed of herself. Was she even human?
"Feel free to put your stuff wherever you want," he offered her. "Should I take your coat again?"
"Yes, please," she smiled.
He helped her remove it from her shoulders, just the way a perfect gentleman should. The gesture melted what was left of her heart and she knew then that she'd made the right decision. Tonight, right now, there was no other place she wanted to be.
It didn't help her nerves, however, as he led her to his bedroom. Of course the window was in his bedroom--where else would it be? She tried to concentrate on his body as she followed along. Honestly, in this t-shirt and sweats and his bare feet? She had never seen him look sexier. There was no tuxedo, no Armani suit, no perfectly-fitting jeans that could come close to comparing to the way he looked as he padded across his floor, running his hand comfortably through his hair. She bit her bottom lip as they approached his doorway.
Suddenly, he halted abruptly and turned around, bracing himself on the doorway's woodwork. "You're about to walk into my bedroom."
Her nerves returned with full force and her eyes darted around. "Well...well, yes, you said the view from here...I mean, I'm sure it's just as nice from a different room--"
"It's sacred in here. It's my sanctuary. Things happen in here, very...unnatural and obscene things. Very personal."
Finally, she picked up on his bullshit and she smirked at him. "Yeah. With yourself."
"Hey," he said with hurt in his eyes. "I'm vulnerable in here."
"Right. Like you would know vulnerable if it bit you in the ass. Excuse me." She helped herself to removing one of his arms from the doorway and walked right past him. Behind her, she heard him snicker and she smiled and rolled her eyes.
The king-sized bed looked like a mere ornament in the bedroom. The three walls that adorned the room were the warm shade of red brick and the leather headboard on the bed nearly matched the chocolate brown hardwood below them, the same hardwood that adorned the living room floor. Juliet was surprised to find no television in this room, only one chest of drawers, and a small doorway on the opposite wall that she could only assume was his closet. Beyond the closet was the master bath, and she only knew that because the door hung open into it. Near the curtained-window was a Victorian-style, chaise lounge chair made from dark brown leather and a small table that sat next to it. Besides the bedside tables on each side of the bed, the room boasted no other furniture or décor, save for a random abstract piece or two that hung on the walls.
Juliet lost herself in the unfortunate waste of impeccable designing space in this room and her mind was already brimming with ideas. She must have been deeper in her imaginary decorating than she thought she was because she was brought forcefully back to reality when Eric's voice gently said, "Juliet?"
"Huh?" She answered blankly.
"Where'd you go?"
She looked around for a moment and then she blushed. "Oh! Oh, um...you don't have much going on in this room, do you?"
He shrugged and he looked around. "It's a bedroom. I mean, you sleep in here. I got my underwear in a drawer and my soap in the shower. What more do I need?"
Her eyes widened as she looked around again. "Why do you need this much space if you're not going to use it?"
"Honestly? Because I wanted to do the ceiling. I have plans for this place. Before it's over with, the entire apartment's ceiling will look just like the living room does, I'm going to knock down a good bit of these walls and open it up more in here. Make it look more like a loft. I always wanted to live in a loft."
"Why didn't you?"
He grinned at her, his eyes twinkling. "Because it's more fun to make my own."
His smile was infectious and she felt her own warm smile cross her face. "You really love what you do, don't you?"
"Of course I do," he said, looking around them. "It's why I run the company."
Something in his tone sounded uncomfortably forced and she decided to quit with the subject while she was ahead. Instead, she focused her attention on the oversized curtain and grinned with delight. "So, can we open the curtain now? I feel like this is some big...Christmas gift or something."
He nodded toward the bed. "Yeah, if you go hit the lights."
Juliet wasted no time clicking off the lamps on either side of the bed. It took Eric two hands to walk each panel of the curtain to the opposite walls. Walking up on the sight, her heart stopped and her eyes grew big. "Eric, this is gorgeous!" She breathed in awe.
Being on the top floor of an East 60th Street building had its advantages, the view being the most important one. The pair stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall view of New York City, the lights glittering in the night sky as far as the eye could see. She had seen plenty of views of the city in her time as a resident, but never in such a capacity as this. Never in the warmth of a home, next to a beautiful man whom she was growing to adore, feeling secure and safe...feeling things she hadn't felt in a very long time, if ever. She was finding it hard to believe that this was her life right now. That she was here, that it was real. That standing here next to her, amongst the sparkling Manhattan skyline, was a man--gorgeous and good and sweet--who seemed to want her exactly the way she was, faults, horrific past, and all. Why was this so hard for her when the decision was so easy? Why couldn't she allow herself to fall?
She had stood in silence for awhile, she knew, taking in the city and pondering her life. Eric had been patient and quiet the entire time, but she supposed one had to tire from the silence eventually. "You know what my favorite part about this is?" He asked quietly. "It's overcast outside, and the lights are literally lighting up the sky. That always fascinated me."
"It's brighter when it snows," she pointed out.
"It is. You should see it snow from up here."
She turned and she smiled at him, silently letting him know that she would love that. Then she grew serious as she looked back out over the city. "I need the chance to figure myself out. I need the opportunity to learn on my own. I don't--I don't really know who I am anymore. I thought I did. But I don't. But I think I'm...finally growing tired of being alone...and I didn't know that until you came along. I don't know anything about relationships. I don't know what I want out of them, but I know what I don't want--and I'm not sure you're capable of that. I'm not the easiest person in the world to deal with and I would need to take things painfully slow. But...but if you're willing to be patient with me, I'd like to get to know you more. On a personal level, I mean. Not just business."
Juliet's breathing stopped short after her last word. She was already second-guessing herself, wondering if she should have revealed feelings like that to him or not. When he didn't answer her immediately, she grew nervous, her palms sweating and her heart racing. The conspiracy theorist in her was already putting thoughts into his head.
When he finally spoke, she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Well," he waged. "When you're not screaming at me or returning expensive gifts or insulting my choice of diet, I find you quite delightful." Then his voice softened. "In all seriousness, though, Juliet--getting to know each other is really all I've wanted since the first night I laid eyes on you."
Her eyes gazed at the city before her. How did a moment get more romantic than this? He was so sincere and honest--despite her various accusations otherwise. The only way it got more romantic was engaging in the one act she'd dreamed about since the night it happened.
Looking to her side, her eyes falling on his hand, she carefully reached over and took a light hold on his forearm and pulled him ever so slightly toward her. Instantly picking up on her intentions, he stepped forward as she turned into him, pulling his arm listlessly to her waist. As their lips met, soft and sweet as she remembered the first time, he wrapped his arm tighter around her and let his other hand rest on her shoulder.
She held his face in her hands, taking what she wanted from him, unable to get enough. In the glow of the city lights, she tasted freedom on his lips, smelled it on his breath, and felt it in his arms. She slid her arms around his neck, melting happily into him, finally giving in to her own temptation, her head spinning with the intoxicating contentment that ran through her veins. Would it feel like this every time she kissed him? Did they ever have to stop? Could she kiss him forever?
Apparently not. He broke their kiss long enough to smile against her lips and nudge his nose against hers, that familiar gesture that caused her to blink at him with dream-filled eyelids. "Admit it," he whispered playfully. "This is what you really came back for."
"You caught me," she conceded, breathlessly, claiming his lips once more. She deepened the kiss, letting out a slight whimper as his intensity matched hers, her body building up an excitement that she desperately needed to suppress.
Again, he read her actions almost immediately and his hands began to grow restless as he held her tighter against him. It was when he attempted to untuck her blouse from her pencil skirt that she felt the need to put on the brakes. She braced her hands against his chest, ignoring the fact that she could feel him underneath the thin, white material, and gently pushed herself away from him. "Eric," she objected. Then she looked up into his eyes, pausing to admire the way the lights from the window reflected in them. "I--you are, quite literally, the sexiest man I've ever had the joy of spending time with. And you turn me on like nothing I've ever felt before. But tonight, I just--can we just maybe...sit? And talk?"
It was too dark to tell, but she swore she saw him blush. His eyes darted toward the window and then back at her. "So, no 'and stuff?'"
She had to grin at the reference. She couldn't help herself. "No," she replied, shaking her head. "No 'and stuff.'"
To her relief, he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, we can do that."
Juliet melted the rest of the way into the floor. The only other thing she loved more than kissing Eric Reynolds--well, and having sex with him--was talking to him.
_______________________________________________
This night was shaping up to be way beyond Eric's expectations. The truth was, the most he expected to get out of dinner was a brisk "thank you" and for them to go their separate ways outside the restaurant door. The fact that they'd even ended up at his place at all was mind-blowing enough, and her coming back more or less finished him off. She'd kissed him, sending him shamelessly up to cloud nine, and now he sat on his Victorian chaise in front of the window with her tucked under his arm and her head against his chest. Go slow, she'd suggested? Absolutely. Anything she wanted. Anything that brought her one step closer to becoming his.
He smiled into the sparkling live scene in front of them and crossed his ankles on the floor below his feet. "I've never done this before," he remarked.
"Well, you did imply that you've never had a woman here before," she teased.
He nodded in agreement. "Embarrassingly enough, that's true. But I meant that I've never actually sat on this thing before. It's kinda nice. I should probably invest in an ottoman, though."
"Why do you own a piece of furniture that you never use?"
He furrowed his brow at the window and tightened his arm around her shoulders. He knew it was unfair of him to not want to tell her certain things about himself when she'd completely poured every ounce of her heart and soul out to him. He was comfortable with her--too comfortable for the little time they'd known each other--and in that moment, he wondered if this was what it felt like to be her. His skeletons weren't near as gruesome and horrific as hers were, but they were still uncomfortable. And still early enough for him to be upset at himself for being a fool and not able to pick up on the bullshit sooner.
Finally, he sighed and he gave in. If she could do it, so could he. "It's kind of a revenge piece," he confessed. "My, uh, my ex and I had been looking around in an antique store right before it, uh, it ended with us, and I saw this thing. I liked it. I liked the color, the texture, the style, everything about it. But she saw it and she immediately hated it. She hated it so much that she didn't stop telling me how much she hated it all the way home. So, after I moved out of our apartment, the first thing I did was double back and pick this lovely lady up. From that day forward I decided I was going to live my life the way I wanted to--with my furniture and my obnoxious TV and my junk food--and I never looked back. And now here we are. Everything happens for a reason, I suppose."
"Well," she said quietly, adjusting her position against him. "I love this thing. And I love your TV. And you make a mean ice cream sundae, so. I guess women suck just as much as men do, huh?"
"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "I don't suck. And you don't suck. So that can't make us all bad, right?"
"Can't argue with that. So, um...if you don't mind my asking...and you don't have to answer, I understand, because it's none of my business--"
"I'm an open book, darlin.' You can make anything your business that you want."
"Why is your ex your ex?"
"Well," he began, taking a deep breath. "After two years of what I thought we had was good, I was ready to propose to her. Bought the ring. Made dinner reservations. Came home to tell her about our dinner plans and...she's fucking our building's maintenance guy on our living room couch. I was so pissed off, I couldn't even be bothered to be hurt by it. I was packed up and out of that apartment in mere hours."
"Oh my god," Juliet breathed. "What a whore."
Eric chuckled. "My sentiments exactly."
"How could she be so stupid? Why would anyone want to cheat on you? I mean, after that night at my place...I'm a believer."
"And, yet, you shot me down tonight."
"Eric..."
"It's okay, I'd just finished jerking off in the shower before you rang the doorbell."
"Eric!" She scolded.
"What?" He laughed. "I mean, do you want honesty or not?"
"This conversation ends now," she murmured.
"Just when it started getting interesting." They were silent for a moment before he nudged her shoulders with his arm. "At least say my name again."
"Eric," she yawned.
"Wow," he deadpanned. "Wow. I was hoping for just a little more enthusiasm than that. You know, something along the lines of, 'Oh, Eric, you're the cutest guy I've ever met!' Or, 'Eric, you're so hilarious, I can't stop laughing!' While we're on the ego-stroking train and all. You can start with those. I'm listening."
Except that Juliet apparently wasn't. In fact, it was the staggering of her shoulders that accompanied the breath she'd taken in and sighed contentedly back out that let him know that she had actually drifted off to sleep. That fast. It had to be record time. Either that or she was just that exhausted.
A smile crossed his face as he stroked what he could reach of her arm. This was true happiness. At least tonight he would really get to fall asleep next to her. The first time he hardly remembered falling asleep at all. And in the morning they would wake up together, no leaving.
As he thought back on the night they met and then thought about tonight, he contemplated the definition of conventional. By the book, the way things had been going lately were certainly not conventional. There had been no formal dating procedure. There'd been no flowers, no cocktails, and no future plans made. There had only been sex, conversation, and a date he had to trick her into coming on. Was that conventional? Absolutely not. But this quirky little...friendship they were developing was all theirs. And he was perfectly fine with it.
He sat for another few minutes before he decided he should probably get her more comfortable. Reaching around with his free arm, he brushed her hair away from her face and whispered, "Jules."
She didn't respond, except to smack her lips a couple of times and snuggle deeper into his chest. He grinned at the action. This was a new one of her many faces he hadn't seen yet. Adorable didn't even cover it.
Still smiling, he nudged her again. "Juliet? Wouldn't you rather sleep in the bed?"
This time she didn't respond at all. The woman was gone.
He'd already gathered that she was a sound sleeper judging by the way she didn't budge the morning he had to leave her to go get Travis. It took some maneuvering, but he finally managed to scoop her up into his arms and carry her to his bed. Laying her down as gently as he could, he clicked on the lamp next to him and he looked at her. She was still in the clothes that she wore to dinner--probably the same clothes she'd worn to the office--and he couldn't very well let her sleep in them. He'd hoped to wake her up so she could remedy that problem, but he didn't see that happening, either. And, so, after more odd maneuvering, he managed to remove her existing articles, miraculously ignore the sinfully sexy black, lace bra and panties set she wore, and replace her designer duds with his own t-shirt that he'd sacrificed from his own body. He turned down the bed, tucked her into it, and clicked the lamp back off.
Walking around to the other side of the bed, he sat on the edge of it for a moment, meaning to get into it, but stopping to gather his thoughts. He had been exhausted not too long ago. But now he felt like he was wide awake again. Juliet was like a skittish deer in headlights. He'd gotten her to trust him enough to stick around and nibble out of his hand, but one false, sudden move could send her running for the hills at any given moment, it seemed. Part of him wanted to be awake for every single moment he could spend with her just so he could cherish the times that she didn't run away from him.
But, then, she was the one who came back. She was the one who kissed him. She did it. It was her. So how skittish was she, really?
Deciding that he really was as exhausted as he thought he was, he finally climbed into bed and made himself comfortable. There, in the glow of the city lights from a window he never opened due to the obnoxious morning light that came from it, he watched the gorgeous figure next to him sleep until his own eyes grew too heavy to hold open.
___________________________________________
Juliet's eyes opened slowly into a blur of darkness. She stretched herself out in the bed, noticing how good her bare legs felt against the unusual softness of the sheets underneath her. She was warm, she was snuggly, and she hugged herself, feeling her own forearms. She hadn't worn short sleeves that night.
A little more awake now, her eyes looked around slowly and she turned her head and faced New York's night sky as the city lights sparkled underneath it. She smiled sleepily at the sight. It was such a magnificent window, it was like it wasn't even real. It was almost as if she could go to one of the four corners and just peel the poster right off the wall. She wished she had taken a view into consideration when she'd bought her condo. Her best view was the brick wall of the building next door to hers. She couldn't even walk onto her balcony and get a glimpse of a view like this.
Slowly she sat up in the bed and looked over on the bed next to her. Eric slept on his side, his breathing deep and even. He didn't snore. And he could accuse her of snoring all he wanted, but she knew she didn't. She didn't even have allergies. But differences in opinion aside, he was just as adorable when he slept now as he was the last time she watched him sleep.
She turned her body toward the window, sitting on the edge of the bed with her legs crossed underneath her. She pulled the comforter around her waist and she yawned, tucking her hair behind her ear, and hugging herself as she stared out the window. Curiously, she looked down and pulled at the shirt that she wore, catching the clean scent of Eric's body as she lifted the material off of her skin. She furrowed her brow and then she allowed herself to smile as she turned around and snuck another peek at him. He was topless. He had literally given her the shirt off his back. Like the gentleman that he was, however, she was reminded by her bra's underwire that he had completely behaved himself while changing her clothes. She shook her head and turned back to the window, her hand digging into her back as she unhooked her bra and removed it from under the shirt. He wasn't supposed to defy the odds like he had been. He wasn't supposed to be the exception to her rule, the one man on earth who wasn't actually a filthy animal. She wasn't supposed to want to spend every moment of every day with him.
Suddenly, Eric's voice startled her, soft and thick with sleep. "Why are you awake?"
Turning around, she hunkered back down under the covers and lay on her side to face him as he scooted himself closer to her across his large bed. "I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered.
She could barely make out his face under the low glow from the window, but she saw the sparkle in his eye and heard the warmth in his voice. "I don't mind. Are you okay?"
"Just...a lot on my mind, I guess."
"Tell me."
"Go back to sleep," she smiled.
"No. Tell me."
She took a deep breath as she made herself more comfortable on the pillow. "You're so young," she observed as she gazed at him.
"I'm not that young," he retorted, sounding more alert now than before.
"I feel like I've lived fifty years. I feel like I could be your mother."
"I'm beginning to feel insulted..."
Her smile returned. "Don't feel insulted. It's...it's me, it's not you."
"Okay, yeah," he admitted. "So I'm a little younger. But not by that much."
"I've never been with a younger man before."
Bringing his pillow with him, he scooted himself even closer to her. "Well," he smiled as he reached over and crept his hand along her hip. "Allow me to explain to you the benefits of being with a younger man. We're...determined. Hungry. Strong. Agile..."
"Keep talking," she breathed.
His hand crept up under the bottom of her shirt and rested on her bare waist. "We're creative. Spontaneous. Fun. Protective..."
"All of you?"
"Just me," he grinned.
A mischievous smile crept across her face. "So...I guess I got lucky not ending up with your brother, then."
"Are you saying I was your last resort?"
Suddenly her heart pounded. Was that what that sounded like? She shouldn't have brought up his brother, that was stupid. Her eyes widened, painfully aware that she couldn't take back her idiot statement. "No. Never."
He let out a long sigh and rolled over onto his back, tucking an arm under his head as he stared at the ceiling. "I mean, it's okay if I was. I'm used to being the last resort. I don't think I'd know what to do with myself if I wasn't."
"Eric," she objected, propping her head up on her palm. "You were...you were always my first resort. Even when I didn't want you to be...you left me no choice."
"So why did you run?" He asked. "The restaurant, the benefit...even at your party, you completely ignored me. What did I do--?"
"You saw me. You--you looked at me like...I felt so exposed. I felt like you were looking at me and reading all my secrets. And I was willing to tell them to you. I was willing to--to surrender myself to you and I don't--I don't surrender, I don't give in, I don't--care. You make me want to care."
"It's okay to care, you know."
"I know," she said, her face falling. "I'm afraid."
"Yeah? Well, so am I," he spat. "There are two of us here, you know."
Suddenly, she was puzzled by his sudden change in attitude. She knew she'd said something stupid, but she hadn't meant to hurt his feelings--or even upset him. She didn't know what to say next. She felt like anything that might come out of her mouth could be a trigger--and to what, she didn't know. This was the part she feared. The not knowing. He'd been upset at her before, but there was always that moment--always that time when it could happen, when he could fall off the deep end. Instinctively, she felt herself scooting away from him just a little bit. She didn't like that feeling. Eric wasn't that man and she knew it. But she hated realizing that deep down, in a place she thought she'd buried long ago, the fear was still there.
As if on cue, he turned his head and looked at her. "Hey. Where are you going?"
Her eyes widened and she froze. She tried to leave once. Just once. He'd gone to bed drunk and she was lucky enough to have escaped a beating that night. She had it all planned out--even had a bag hidden away with a little bit of money stashed in it. He was so drunk, he would never know she was gone until morning. And by then she'd be far, far away. Unfortunately, though, he wasn't as passed out as she thought he was, because she wasn't even one foot out of the bed before he turned over and said, "Where do you think you're going?" She tried to lie and tell him she was going to the bathroom, but she couldn't get the words out and it was too late. In less than ten minutes, he had backhanded her, raped her, and collapsed in a drunken stupor on top of her. She shoved him off of her and she sobbed herself to sleep, him having never woken up again for the rest of the night. By then, it was too late. She was too afraid to take the chance again.
Her chest heaved with breath as Eric turned on his side to face her. "Jules?" He asked. "Are you okay? Do you need some water or something?"
She blinked at him for a moment, her mind and her body slowly returning themselves to the present and she shook her head.
Reaching over, he took her by the hand, laced his fingers in hers, and kissed her hand before pulling her toward him and resting himself on his back again. With his arm around her shoulder, he held her tight and let out a breath at the ceiling. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to sound like an asshole. I guess...I guess I have my own issues I'm dealing with. Just because I'm insanely good-looking and charming doesn't mean I'm perfect."
Finally, Juliet grinned against the warm skin of his chest, feeling ashamed of herself for even trying to associate him with anything that had happened in her past. Snuggling closer to him, tucking one of her feet between his shins, she let go of his hand and caressed his arm as it lay across his chest. "Tell me," she said quietly.
"Well," he began. "I'm technically the youngest of three--Travis is almost two minutes older than me--and I grew up my entire life knowing it. I was a late bloomer. Our older brother, Andy, he was your garden variety overachiever. Went into the military and made a career of it. Made Dad proud. Travis was light years ahead of me on everything. School, athletics, girls, you name it. Travis was the epitome of cool and I was...not."
"I find that a little hard to believe--you're twins."
"Yeah, well, I was the one who ended up with the shit end of the deal. Travis had the smarts. He played sports--"
"Wait. Travis had the smarts?"
"Yep. He's a certified genius. On paper. He lost valedictorian by, like, a hair or something, I dunno. Anyway, Dad doted on Travis--and Travis didn't even give a shit. He never studied, was always out partying, sleeping in class--and he could get by with murder. Me? I got the glasses, the braces, and the business mind. I didn't give a shit about sports and I was in love with my dad's construction business since day one. But he never took me seriously. I studied and worked my ass off, but it didn't matter. I always felt like 'Oh, Andy-this! Oh, Travis-that! Oh, yeah. There's that Eric kid.'"
"Yeah, but look at you now," she marveled. "Look who you became. You're gorgeous, you're successful, you're doing what you love to do. There are people out there who would kill to be in your shoes. I mean, hell, even look at this apartment--"
"It's family money," he admitted. "I didn't earn this apartment. I don't even really deserve it. The three of us were my grandfather's only grandchildren. So when he passed, he split his will three ways. Andy got the stocks, Travis got the properties, and I got the money--'because I'd probably need it the most.' Fuck, even my own grandfather didn't have any faith in me. So. Yeah. That's what I grew up with, that's what I go through now with the company. I mean, it's not like I feel sorry for myself. The struggle just gets so aggravating sometimes."
She turned over on her stomach so she could look at his face. "That's not fair to you. You shouldn't have to go through life constantly feeling like you have to prove yourself."
He lifted his head and raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah?"
She looked at him for a moment before her face fell in shame and she rested her cheek on the skin of his chest. She let out a breath. "It's really not you," she said quietly. "You're perfect. You really are. I'm the problem. I know I am." Then she lifted her head and looked up at him again. "But I believe in you. I know we haven't known each other for very long, but I do believe in you. I mean, I laid the future home of my company solely in your hands, didn't I? And I'm a tough one to crack."
Looking back at her, he studied her face as he reached over and twirled a strand of her hair between his fingers as if he were inspecting it. Then he turned over on his side, wrapped her in his arms, and he kissed her.
There wasn't supposed to be any sex tonight. She'd only wanted to talk. But in the softness of the sheets, under the glow of the night, and they way both of them wore next to nothing, she couldn't help the temptation. The truth was, she was instantly turned on at any given moment in his presence. She couldn't deny what she wanted.
As if he'd read her mind, Eric's hand drifted down to the lace panties that barely covered her. "Let's get these off of you," he breathed quietly into her mouth.
That was all the convincing she needed. Before she knew it, she was straddling him and he was peeling his own t-shirt off of her. Within seconds, Juliet was blissfully riding him into the night.
_________________________________________
The daylight flooded into the bedroom in full force, brightening the walls, despite their warm, deep color. There was a reason Eric kept the window's curtain closed on a daily basis and this was exactly it. He could barely open his eyes into the brightness.
And, so, he took a moment to close his eyes again and reflect. As he held Juliet in his arms, burying his face in her hair and inhaling the faint, floral scent of it, he listened to her light snoring and he smiled. She was so unbelievably adorable, even when she slept. Her peace now was completely the opposite of the way her voice cried out his name just hours earlier as he'd done things to her he knew she probably had never felt before. He'd made love to her twice--and where he found that kind of stamina, he had no idea. But his favorite part was when they sat up in bed, wrapped up in the comforter and each other, and watched the sun rise over the sky scrapers out the window. He'd never watched the sun rise out that window before. Watching it with Juliet for the first time was a moment in his life that he knew he would cherish forever.
Eric had no idea what time it was, and he found that he didn't really care. However, his stomach decided otherwise and he could only ignore it for so much longer. When he finally decided to throw his pants back on and head into the kitchen, she stirred when he let go of her. "Eric," she murmured into her pillow. "Don't leave me."
He leaned over her and draped her hair behind her neck. "Are you hungry?" He asked gently.
"Mmhmm."
"Want me to make you something?"
She didn't respond for a few seconds. Finally, she stretched her body out slowly and turned over on her back, clutching the comforter to her chest, smiling up at him sleepily. "Is this the part where you feed me some cheesy line about how I like my eggs in the morning or something?"
He grinned at her in amusement. "Well. It is a perfectly legitimate line. And I do have eggs."
"So you cook, too?" She asked with fascination.
He shrugged. "I'm a single man who lives alone. I gotta eat."
Her smile widened. "I'd love some eggs."
"I'll get right on it," he replied happily.
"Eric," she said, catching his arm as he moved. Now her expression was serious as she looked up into his eyes. "I just want you to know, this is...this is the happiest I've felt in a...really long time. And I'm glad I stayed for dinner. Because it was the best date I've ever been on, too. So, thank you. For everything."
He lifted her hand and clutched it in both of his as he kissed it. "You'll always get the best of everything from me, I promise." Then he grinned again. "Starting with those eggs."
As she giggled at him, he slid out of the bed and pulled his pants back on. He watched her watch him leave the room and as he made his way to his kitchen, he felt like he was on top of the world. Nothing could ruin his mood. Not a damn thing on the planet.
Except for Travis.
Eric paused and he stared, his open floor plan now a blessing and a curse. Travis hummed to himself happily, helping himself to the contents of his brother's refrigerator and munching on whatever his mouth was full of along the way. Eric was furious as Travis, lost in his own little culinary world, remained oblivious to his presence.
Finally, Eric's glare got the best of him and he didn't care that he'd startled Travis when he barked across the room, "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Looking up at Eric, a clueless grin flashed across Travis's face. "Breakfast."
Eric silently vowed that this would be Travis's last meal. And this time he meant it.