Layers (8 page)

Dear Hurt & Disappointed DS,

What are you doing up? Don’t you have an intriguing and professional business to run tomorrow a.m.?

H

I press send and sink my head back to the pillow, smiling. I flinch at the unexpected chime of my phone.

“I do well with just a few hours of sleep, so rest assured, H, I will not by any means compromise my ability to perform in any given situation.” Daniel’s hoarse voice echoes in my ear.
I’m glad to hear that, since I have a very important situation for you in mind. One in which you just can’t fail to perform.

“Hello,” I stress my greeting. “Have you lost your impeccable manners? And I am glad to hear that you won’t fail to perform,” I tease, snuggling deeper under my thick, fresh-scented blanket.

Avoiding any further small talk and disregarding my last comment, he bluntly asks, “Do you want to meet me now?”

“Sure, why not.” The words fly out of my mouth without thinking
. Where did that come from?

“I can pick you up in ten. The roads are open at this hour. Shouldn’t take long, okay?”

“Pick me up and go where, Daniel?” I ask, now reconsidering what I’ve just impulsively agreed to.

“We’ll see, in ten.” And he’s gone.

What did I just agree to? I need to think, for the love of god, especially with him
. I’ll need to have a direct vein infusion of caffeine in the morning if I plan to work on my drawings. Well, that’s the price a girl should pay for meeting good-looking, rich, deliciously-scarred industrialists in the middle of the night. I put on my blue jeans with a tight white tee and my black hoodie, then quickly brush my teeth and try to make some sort of amends with my sleep-flattened waves. I grab two bottles of sparkling water from the fridge, squeeze my feet into the red sneakers which were left in our hallway and, content after a glimpse at the mirror, I lock the door behind me. I skip every other step, going down the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator.
I should not be this thrilled. Highway to heartbreakville …

~~~

I’m thankful that I took my hoodie with me; it gets quite chilly in these wee hours of the morning. I hug myself to warm up, falling deep into memories of my encounters with Daniel. I think about how charming he is, in his rough, witty way. The way he treated me in that awful interview infiltrates my positive thoughts, though in a small part of my mind I think I deserved some of it. And of course there was his mercurial temperament and his mood change after a single call that are so hard to overlook.
Some sort of a warning sign, perhaps
. But all in all, I’m glad to have yet another chance to spend time with him, get to know him better. He intrigues me as much as I’m attracted to him, two sufficient reasons to keep exploring.

A loud mechanical growl brings me back to the present. I turn to face the direction of the roar, astounded by the mean machine responsible for the mechanical/animalistic sound. The wide, low, metallic silver sports car, which I am definitely not familiar with, is equally wild and exotic.
Just like its owner
.

Daniel steps out to greet me, casual yet exquisite in faded jeans and a long-sleeved, gray fitted Henley. I reach out my hand toward him for a shake, but he ignores it and pulls me into an unexpected hug. I awkwardly return his embrace, my hands trapped under his firm grip, and I end up holding his waist. Realizing I am patting him, I stop immediately.
What am I, his aunt
?

For too short a time I get to enjoy the feel of his toned body against mine, his hands wrapping me, and to inhale his scent, which is so captivating. I find myself lured to it in an irresistible pull, wanting more. Discreetly, I take one more lungful just before we break our embrace.

I’m forced to bend down in order to get inside the car; it’s even lower than it appears to be. “Nice car. What make is it?” I ask as I snuggle into the comfy leather seat.

His eyes light up in response. “It’s a Veyron; it has an 8.0L W16-cylinder engine, four turbochargers, and a dual-clutch, computer-controlled, manual transmission.”

“Hey, you lost me at Veyron.” I smile at him.

He chuckles and adds, “It’s a Bugatti, named after the racing driver Pierre Veyron.” His eyes dance and his smile broadens as he provides this additional information. I recall the Forbes piece I read about him earlier which mentioned that one of his hobbies was car racing, but before I comment anything about it I halt.
I really don’t want to admit to looking him up. Pathetic is not exactly a sexy virtue
.

“You want to be buckled up in this babe. She does zero to a hundred in 5.1 seconds,” he suggests boyishly, running his hand over the leathered wheel, his long fingers lingering over the sharp curve. “So, anywhere special you’d like to go?” He rewards me with a sinful, crooked smile.

I smile back. “Surprise me.”

“And surprised you will be.” He winks.

Could he be any more charming and attractive?
I stare at his profile when he turns to face the road and a shiver of excitement runs through me. He pushes the pedal, making the car roar eagerly, and with the release of the brake I am pinned back to my seat by the acceleration. There is a light melody playing in the background.

“What song is that?” I ask and look at him, yet again taking in his handsome profile.

“
Just a Boy
. Listen to the lyrics.” Turning up the volume he mouths along to the song, eyes still ahead.

I should be listening to these words
? Something about a boy meeting a girl and though he doesn’t know why, he quickly fell for her.
Anything you want to tell me there, Mr. Stark?
My inner smile is threatening to rip me in two.

“Sparkling water?” I offer, intending to open mine.

He turns to me with a wide grin. “Always be prepared.”

“What can I say?” I beam at him and raise my hand in a Girl Scout salute.

“Oh, you were one?” he asks, a side smile still resting on his lips.

“Yes, I was one.” And I am gifted with a wider grin. He seems to be enjoying some private joke, continuing to smirk as he stares straight ahead at the road. I turn to open the second bottle for him.

“No need to open that one, we can share,” he mutters casually.

I guess we could
. I hand him mine, he takes a sip, his lush lips circling the opening. I find myself mesmerized by the simple action.

“Here,” he hands me back the bottle, for a brief moment intently glancing at me. Bringing the bottle to my lips I think about the fact that his lips just touched the same place. I sip the water slowly while a warm wave settles in my belly.

~~~

“Here we are,” he declares, pulling the car to a stop next to a lighthouse.

“Let’s go,” he offers, stepping out of the car.

I follow. He circles the car to meet me and takes my hand in his.

“It’s one of my favorite places outside the city,” he tells me. “There’s an amazing view from the top.” I look at him under my lashes with a thin smile and continue following his lead. With him two stairs ahead I shamelessly check his behind
. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt me
. I smirk, absolutely liking the way his firm butt is nicely snug inside his jeans.

Climbing half way to the top he turns back to face me, his eyes darker and intense, his body close to mine as he looks down at me. Gently he tugs my chin, tipping my face to look up. “Have you been here before?” His voice is velvety soft.

“No, I haven’t.” I blink twice and swallow hard, the spot of my face he touches radiating with heat.

“Good, I am glad I get to show it to you,” he says, and resumes his climbing.

My heart rate hastens both from the exertion and from him. He is all charm and warmth; this is not what I was expecting, for sure.

We’re slightly short of breath for the last few steps. When we reach the top we stand facing each other while easing our rapid breathing. As our eyes meet we chuckle in unison.

“Come,” he extends his hand for me to take, and I do, indulging at the feel of his skin on mine. He leads us to the other side of the tower and we end up standing by the wooden railing. It’s about three a.m. by now and the view that spreads to the horizon is stunning. The sky is a mixture of smoky gray with touches of coal black; the stars are scattered in tiny twinkling dots; the sea beneath is a tempest of pitch black with silver lacing.

“It’s impeccable, Daniel.” I admire the view. When I turn my head next to look his way I meet his face close, very close to mine.

I blush, grateful for the evening dimness. “Do I make you nervous?”

He did notice my blushing
. As he waits for my reply his eyes are intent on mine. We stand in charged silence for a while; he brushes away a lock of hair the breeze dropped on my face, making me shiver and my heart wrench.

“Do I?” he repeats.

I slowly shake my head in response, though, quite certain my obvious edginess tells him otherwise. My stomach knots at his question, at my reaction, at his closeness.
I find you incredibly attractive, is why, you do make me nervous, and those small gestures of affection startle me
. He’s so near, I feel his warm breath on my face and all I want is for him is to kiss me, kiss me right here and now. We stand there, our eyes locked, my face tilted forward, my lips parted, waiting for his to claim them. He bends his head to reach mine. I gasp, waiting anxiously for the touch of his mouth. Bending lower, his mouth finds my neck. With soft fluttering of his lips he ascends slowly toward the delicate skin behind my ear. I stretch my head slightly back to give him better access. Those butterflies in my stomach again. This time they rage.

He presses his body to mine, pinning me against the brick wall fencing the lighthouse. He slightly parts my legs as he moves closer to stand between them. I can feel him against me; his beating heart pounds through my shirt. The intense charge between us almost palpable, making my every molecule melt.

As he lifts his head to look into my eyes I move my mouth closer toward his with intent to take the lead, but he slightly shifts his face away to the other side of my neck and anxiously kisses me there.
That seemed deliberate. Is he avoiding my mouth?

He halts unexpectedly to look at me. Holding my chin in his hand he slowly tilts my face so my eyes are even with his. I wait impatiently.

“I don’t do relationships,” he says in a low, rough voice. His face is composed, though his eyes are narrow and grave.

That’s something I didn’t anticipate
, but with my initial plan, and all of these hormones taking the better of me, “Me neither,” I whisper. “Don’t stop.”

He seems rattled.
I guess he didn’t expect my response either
. When what I’ve just said seems to register he grabs me by my hips, pulls me up and turns to lean me against the lighthouse’s inner wall, pressing me with his body’s weight to the cold concrete. The attraction that was charging between us is finally released and we are drawn to each other in an impulsive rush. I wrap my legs around his hips; he quickly unzips my pullover, pushing aside the fabric. His mouth moves to kiss my cleavage. His other hand finds its way beneath my t-shirt, stroking my skin. I kiss the nape of his neck, inhaling his musky male scent. My blood warms in my veins; I want him so much I can hardly think straight.

“Could you grab the condom from my front pocket?” he whispers in my ear, the sound of his hoarse voice making the simple words so promising. As I hand him the small silver package, he releases me for what feels like the longest, most anticipated, and excruciating few seconds I have ever felt. He unbuttons my jeans and helps me out. I kick my shoes aside. He lifts me again, my legs enfolding him as he takes me in a sharp move; and we’re all anxious strokes, frantic hands, consuming mouths, darting gazes and gasps. The combination of the heat he radiates on me and in me with the cold wall against my back overwhelms me. I kiss the scar on his eyebrow as he accelerates his pace, making us both pant for air, short anxious groans escaping our mouths. His lips are back on my neck, his hand behind me, pulling me closer to him; I wrap my legs tighter and tighter, and with his last deepest thrust we both cum together, exhaling rapidly.

He puts me down right after, makes sure I’m stable and immediately pulls his pants up and turns to stand by my side. He leans on the wall, his head back, pensive.

“Always be prepared,” I murmur.

He chuckles and raises his hand in a Boy Scout salute.

“You? Seriously, Daniel Stark?”

He shakes his head with a slim, wicked smile. “On the contrary, juvenile delinquent would suit me better,” he mutters and his lips twist to a full mischievous smirk. We both laugh, releasing the tension between us as we do. Too quickly his smile is lost as he dryly says, “We should get going.” He adjusts his shirt, running a hand through his hair.

Wham bam thank you ma’am
, is what comes to my mind as I put my shoes back on.
Isn’t this exactly what I wanted, planned? Emotions aside … “Me neither, don’t stop,” ring a bell?
But why does it feel so different with him, so confusing and upsetting? I feel so empty inside all of a sudden. I should be amused by this.
I don’t feel. I mustn’t
. That’s how it always was and yet with him it’s different somehow.

We climb back down in chilled silence, only the sound of our steps echoing through the stillness. He opens the car door for me, avoiding any eye contact. Bringing the car back to life, he sends a quick glimpse my way. There is a bothered look in his eyes that I find hard to interpret. He appears to be slightly confused.
So am I
. I think about how he couldn’t wait to get back right after our deed, and how disturbingly apparent it was that he deliberately avoided kissing me on the mouth. All of a sudden he is so distant, it seems like the person sitting next to me is a complete stranger, who doesn’t even resemble the one I’ve just spent time with. He acted so into me, so warm and interested. Now he’s shutting down, like he can’t wait to get away from me.