Sugar on the Edge (11 page)

I vowed to myself if the smell of the food woke her up, I’d offer her some and send her on her way. When that didn’t work, I figured the banging around in the kitchen while I ate and then rinsed my dishes would wake her up, and then I’d send her on her way. She stayed soundly asleep.

Only after I grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass, this one a plastic tumbler with a brown and green palm tree on it, and poured my first drink, did I sit on the loveseat opposite of her and vow to myself I’d wake her up after I finished my first one.

Now, two glasses of scotch later, she still hasn’t stirred. I don’t know why I’m not waking her up and making her leave. Staring at her in the dim light cast from the one lamp I have turned on, my thoughts take a dark turn. Why is this slip of a girl causing me so much fascination? She’s not like my usual brand of tramp that I like to fuck and then tell them to get the fuck out of dodge. I’m attracted to her… sure. But it scares me to think that the attraction is because I can’t quite figure her out. I normally steer clear of any type of situation that takes me out of my comfort zone, and she definitely makes me uncomfortable.

I’m pleasurably warmed by the scotch, yet I hesitate to pour another glass. Just weeks ago, I only survived my life by drinking myself into a stupor most nights. Sometimes I’d really launch myself into oblivion by taking some coke, desperate to escape my past.

But now, I don’t have that compulsion. I’m drinking my scotch tonight and enjoying the smoky, sweet flavor… relishing the slow burn when it hits my stomach. I’m not burning my taste buds out by gulping it down, but rather taking small sips to appreciate the fine art of single malt chemistry.

It’s definitely an appreciation tonight, not a compulsion.

Sitting in the semi-dark, sipping my liquor and watching a woman sleep. Some would find that romantically sweet. I find it to be macabre, because no matter the fascination sweet Savannah holds for me, when it boils right down to it, deep down I want to break her. I want to prove to myself that she’s nothing special… that she’s exactly as I imagine her to be. An uninteresting sort of woman who thinks more of herself than she actually is, and in the grand scheme of things, she’ll never amount to more.

It’s why I haven’t changed the plot line of her character. Yeah… she called me an asshole, and yeah, she’s asserting herself with me more, but she’d never have done those things if I hadn’t practically dared her to do them. She doesn’t have it in her… not for the long haul anyway, to really push at me.

Demand of me.

Demand of anyone, for that matter.

No, she doesn’t have the strength of character that would be deserving of heroine status in my book, so I’m not changing a damn thing I’ve written just because she’s shown a little gumption of late.

Savannah lets out a soft sigh from the couch, and I watch her intently. The hand across her stomach moves up, and she stretches both of them over her head, arching her back off the couch in a sleepy stretch. It pulls her T-shirt up higher, exposing more of her stomach and thrusting her breasts out.

The two glasses of scotch I’ve had haven’t mellowed me enough that my dick doesn’t take notice of the unintentional, but sexy move. It thumps against the zipper of my jeans with interest.

I wonder if I could seduce her… right now? I wonder if I gave into this attraction… this lust that’s brewing for her, could the pounding of my cock between her legs drive her right out of my thoughts for good? Maybe that’s what I need… just to fuck her, with raw, primal energy… enough to scare her away for good. Maybe then, I could quit thinking about her. She’d run away crying, her dignity shredded, and I could hire a new cleaning service and be done with her.

Savannah takes a deep breath, lets it out, and then goes still. I can’t see if her eyes are open in the shadows where she lies, but by the measured movement of her chest, I think she’s gone back down under.

Setting my empty tumbler on the table beside me, I stand up and walk over to the couch. I stare down at her, her face so serene and peaceful. I wonder if she’s dreaming.

Without a second thought, I sit down on the edge of the couch, in a small area available to me by her left hip. Taking my finger, I stroke it over the skin of her stomach and say, “Sweet… it’s time to wake up?”

She gives a soft moan in her sleep and arches her back off the cushions again.

And fuck, that’s sexy.

And yeah, I definitely want to fuck her.

“Savannah,” I call out to her softly and bring my hand up to her face, grazing my fingers over her temple. “You need to wake up.”

Her eyes flutter open, immediately making contact with mine, and I let my hand drop away.

“She’s alive,” I murmur as she stares at me with dark eyes.

“What time is it?” she rasps out, turning her head to the left to look out the back glass door.

“Just after nine PM,” I tell her. “You slept like a rock. I could have had my way with you, and you would have never known.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asks skeptically, and with sleep still heavy in her voice. “Like what?”

Oh, little girl, the things I could have done to you.

I go for the shock factor to see what she does. Reaching my left arm behind me, I place my fingers on her calf. Her skin is warm and silky, and her breath hitches at the slight touch. “I could have skimmed my fingers up your leg, right past your knee… up your thigh,” I tell her, moving my fingers up that same path I’m describing. When I get to the edge of her shorts, I halt my progress. “I could have inched my way right under these short little shorts… found the edge of your damp panties just to prove that you were having a sexy little dream while you were sleeping.”

A tiny moan comes out of her mouth, and her eyes glitter back at me from the ambient light of the lamp reflecting in them. “You didn’t do that,” she says without any type of conviction at all… and is that a bit of longing I hear?

I finger the edge of her shorts. “I’ve done all kinds of dark and dirty things that your limited imagination could never fully appreciate. It would have been nothing for me to do that to you.”

“Maybe so,” she breathes out in a rush, “but you wouldn’t have done that without my consent.”

“Hmmm,” I say thoughtfully, releasing the denim material and placing my fingers on her hot skin, feeling her muscles jump underneath my touch. “I’m wondering… would you give me your consent right now? Would you let me tunnel my fingers inside just a bit, let me see if your panties are damp because what I’m saying to you now is turning you on?”

She doesn’t move a muscle… holds her breath and watches to see what I’ll do. But that doesn’t work for me, because she’s going to need to be a little more forceful if she wants what I’m offering. I can see what she wants in her eyes, but yes… I want more.

“Tell me, Sweet,” I taunt her as my fingers stroke back and forth underneath the hem of her shorts, just a mere inch from the edge of her panties. “Do you have it in you to ask for my fingers, or would you rather leap off this couch and flee away?”

Savannah inhales sharply, and I tense as I wait for her to choose the latter option. I’m so fucking turned on right now by trying to dare her into letting me seduce her, that I’d probably hold her down and not let her up. She pulls her lower lip in between her teeth and chews on it thoughtfully while she weighs her options.

“Come on, Sweet,” I encourage her, my voice rough with need. “Show me what you got inside of you… deep down inside. Take a walk on the wild side… you know you want to.”

Fuck me standing. Savannah flexes her hips upward, a silent demand that I move my hand. It’s clear to me now that she wants it, but she’s still too afraid to demand it out loud.

Moving my hand away from her leg, I shake my head and chastise her. “Not good enough, Sweet. You need to demand of it of me.”

Savannah gives a tiny cry of frustration, and I can see the warring within her eyes. I’ve taken her so far out of her comfort zone that her natural inclination is going to be withdrawal, but her body is reactive to me and it’s battling with her common sense.

“I know what you want,” I tell her softly. “You know what you want. But prove to me you have it in you to demand it.”

Blowing out a breath, she says, “I want you to…”

“Tell me,” I urge her on.

“Touch me,” she says softly.

“Where?”

Her eyes squeeze close, her brow furrowing inward. When she opens them again, she gives another frustrated sigh. “Between my legs.”

“Uh-uh,” I chide her. “Dirtier. Make it dirty for me.”

Savannah opens her mouth… she’s on the verge of telling me what I want to hear, and my cock swells in anticipation. She’s going to push past her barriers and restraints, show me her dark side, and then it will be okay if I fuck her.

I can finally fuck her.

“I can’t,” she exclaims and surges off the couch. I rear backward, surprised by her move as she tries to push past me.

My arm snakes out and grabs her around the waist, pulling her back down onto my lap, right onto my aching erection.

“No,” she cries out, struggling against me.

“Shh,” I whisper against her ear, but I don’t tighten my hold on her. She’s upset, and I don’t want to frighten her. Fuck… I want to console her for some insane reason, which is not a part of my DNA.

“Shh,” I whisper again as I gently rub her back in broad strokes to calm her down. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re an asshole,” she practically whimpers with her face pressed into my shoulder.

Sighing, I push her back from me so I can look her in the face. “Yes, I am. I shouldn’t have pushed that way. I thought you could take it.”

“I’m not some sort of sick game for you to play with,” she says, her voice sounding stronger.

“I know,” I agree with her, because it was the sickest of games. But fuck… she wanted me. For a moment, she was all in, and had I just accepted it when she said she wanted me to touch her between her legs, my fingers would be buried deep within her right now. But I let my own darkness and need for control dictate to me the way it would be played out. So I could make the terms and force her to abide by them.

Pushing Savannah off my lap, I wait until she’s standing steady and say, “You should go.”

She walks on shaky legs into the kitchen, and I stand from the couch to face her while she gathers her purse and keys. Dragging my fingers through my hair, I sigh in frustration.

Sexual frustration, but also mental frustration. What the fuck was I just doing?

When Savannah reaches the door, she hesitates and then says without turning to look back at me, “I don’t understand what just happened.”

“Fuck if I know,” I mutter.

Savannah then turns to look at me, cocking her head to the side. “I’m curious, Gavin. Did you want me too, or was that just a way to try to break me out of the mold you wanted to put me in?”

Her words floor me and shame me all at once. In five long strides, I’m standing before her, cupping her by the back of her head with my hand. Leaning down close, I tell her, “I fucking wanted you. Don’t doubt that. But you’re right… I wanted to break you first.”

“Why?” she whispers, her eyes cautious.

“Because I’m dark that way. I’m way too bitter for your brand of sweet.”

“I find that to be sad,” she consoles me.

“Very,” I agree with her as I release my hold and turn away from her. “I’ll see you next week.”

I hear Savannah open the door as I start to walk back into the kitchen.

“Gavin?” she asks hesitantly.

“What’s up?” I ask, struggling for seeming nonchalance as I turn to look at her.

“Want to take a break from your writing? Do something to get you out of this house tomorrow? It might do you good.”

“Excuse me?” I’m bewildered by this absolute change of subject.

“I um… well, I volunteer at this no-kill animal shelter called The Haven. Want to come help me?”

I stare at her like she’s a phenom from another planet. Her face is earnest, her intentions pure. She’s saddened by my darkness and wants to pull me out of it.

Oh, Sweet… not going to happen.

“No, thanks,” I tell her. “Not my sort of thing.”

“Oh… okay. Well, if you change your mind, just call me.”

“I won’t,” I assure her. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Sure,” she says with a smile. “See you next week.”