Into The Fire (9 page)

“Is that all you care about?” I asked. “The
free food?”

“Actually, I care more about the beautiful
woman cooking it—not wearing lingerie.”

He was such a smooth talker. I tried not to
smile but it was hopeless. “Where did you come from?”

“I was born in Connecticut.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, I meant ten minutes
ago. Were you at home?”

“No. I was at work.”

“You just left work at the drop of a
hat?”

“It’s pretty laid back there. My client
canceled their appointment so I wasn’t skipping out on
anything.”

“Well, you didn’t need to stop by.”

“I would have called but you told me not
to.”

“I was just mad.”

He shifted his weight. “You want me to bring
anything?”

“Just yourself.”

“Cool,” he said. “No flowers or
something?”

“Why would you bring flowers?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t that a custom?”

“When you’re going on a date.”

“Oh, okay.” He snapped his fingers. “Gotcha.
I guess I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah.”

He headed to the door. “Since I know where
you live, can I just have your number? I feel ridiculous calling
you at the office all the time.”

“We’ll see…”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be there at seven
unless specified otherwise.”

***

There was a knock on the door at seven
sharp.

I was finishing everything in the kitchen so
I called out. “It’s open.”

Ash walked inside, an arrangement of flowers
in his hand. “Dude, I could have been a serial killer and you just
let me walk inside? You won’t let me walk you home but you’re chill
over this?”

“I knew you were coming.” I turned off the
oven.

“What does that matter? I still could have
been a weirdo.” He walked around the kitchen table and approached
me, the sunflowers in hand. “I got you these.”

I eyed them in his hand and felt my stomach
tie up in knots. I’d been given flowers before but it didn’t mean
as much. “What are these for?”

“Well, two reasons…” He held up one finger.
“I was a dick to you earlier today so I thought this would make up
for it.” He held up a second finger. “I was hoping I could get your
number if I were sweet enough.”

“Whatever the reason, they’re beautiful. I
love sunflowers.”

“I think they’re really cool. They’re big and
bright and not cliché like roses.”

I grabbed a vase from under the sink and
placed the flowers inside. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful of
you.”

“So…can I have that number?”

“Why do you want it so bad?” I filled the
vase with water then set it on the table. “You can call me at the
office whenever you want.”

“I don’t always feel like talking on the
phone so I want to be able to text you. Come on, give it to me.” He
wiggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous way.

“Is that supposed to convince me?”

He shrugged. “Works on everyone else.”

No, your good looks works on everyone
else.
“I’ll think about it.”

“Man, you’re such a tease. I let you sleep
over and you won’t even give me that?”

“I’ll give it to you if you can guess
it.”

“Are you crazy?” he asked. “That’ll take me
three hundred years.”

“Three hundreds years?” I asked. “That’s
oddly specific…”

“You would put an end to this conversation if
you just handed it over.”

I pointed at the table. “Sit down.”

He remained standing.

“Do you want dinner or not?”

That got him in the chair. “What are we
having?”

“Filet mignon, brussel sprouts, and mashed
potatoes.”

He rubbed his palms together greedily. “Fuck
yes.”

I served the plates then sat across from
him.

“Shit, this looks good.” He shoved a brussel
sprout into his mouth. “Even the green balls are good.” He
practically inhaled his food, stuffing as much as possible into his
mouth to where he could barely chew. “You’re a good cook.”

“I didn’t catch that.” I’d only taken a few
bites in the amount of time he managed to eat half his plate.

He chewed for a full minute before he
swallowed. “I said you’re a good cook.”

“Thanks.”

“I should have got better flowers.” He cut
into his steak and took a big bite.

“They’re perfect.” I stared at them on the
kitchen table. They brought life into the apartment.

“So…does it start with a seven?”

What was he talking about?
“Sorry?”

“Your number.”

“You’re really going to guess it?”

“You aren’t giving me a choice,” he said.
“So, does it start with a seven?”

“No.”

“Does it start with a six?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, this is going to take me forever.”

“So quit while you’re ahead.”

He set his fork down and stopped eating. “You
know, I have a few buddies in homeland security. All I’d have to do
is call in a favor and I’d have your digits.”

“Then why don’t you do that?” I was calling
his bluff.

“Maybe I will.” He took a bite of his
potatoes.

“Fine. Go ahead.”

His eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “Dammit,
just tell me.”

“Why don’t you ask your friends?” I sipped my
wine.

“Because that would be a total breach of
privacy. I’d rather just get it from you.”

“How thoughtful…”

“You’re such a tease.”

“I’m not a tease,” I argued. “I told you from
the beginning I didn’t give out my number. It’s not my fault you
thought you would be an exception to that. You told me not to
expect you to change. Well, don’t expect me to change.”

“And that would be fine if I didn’t know you
were full of shit. I’m sitting in your apartment and eating your
cooking as we speak. Come on, you clearly trust me.”

He had a point. I’d never had a client in my
apartment before. I’d never even told them what side of town I
lived on. “Did you ever think that maybe I’m the serial killer and
I’m just trying to get my clients to trust me?” I gave him a
meaningful look and kept eating.

“You? A murderer?” he asked incredulously.
“I’d like to see you try and take me down. You shouldn’t have
picked a veteran to tango with. Even without my gun, I could kill
you instantly.”

This dinner took a turn for the worst. “This
is fun…”

“Sorry, I get a little hung up on stuff like
that.”

“I can tell.” I sipped my wine and watched
him across the table. His brown hair was a little long, which
explained the light curling. His blue eyes were brighter than
usual, and his fair skin was unusually clear. The ruggedness
existed in his hands. They were calloused and dry from constant
use. A man this attractive should be illegal. At six three, he was
all man. His arms were the size of footballs, and his thighs were
thick and powerful. Maybe I was just eager because I’d been going
through a dry spell, but I would love to find out why Ash was so
cocky.

“How was work?” I asked.

“Fine. Some eighteen-year-old kid came in on
his birthday and asked me to mark YOLO on his arm.” He rolled his
eyes. “I kicked him out and told him to get a life.”

“What’s wrong with YOLO?”

“Everyone is doing it. Do you really want a
tattoo that everyone else has? I didn’t think so.” He wiped his
plate clean then rested his hand against his stomach. “Shit, that
was good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Tony never appreciated my
cooking. He scarfed it down then immediately watched TV on the
couch. It was nice to hear thanks for a change.

“You ever think about getting some ink?”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

He rested his elbows on the table as he
watched me eat. “You’d look hot with some sleeves—all black.” He
nodded his head enthusiastically. “I’d take you on this table right
now.”

Even though I knew he was joking, it still
got my motor running. That hard chest would feel so good against
mine, and I wondered what the fuss was about with his piercing. I
wouldn’t mind trying it out. “I was thinking more in a place you
can’t see…like my hip or something.”

“Why?” he blurted. “Where’s the fun in
that?”

“In my line of work, I can’t have tattoos
visible.”

“But that’s lame,” he said. “You should be
able to do whatever you want.”

“You think your parents would like me if I
had a falcon on my forearm?”

He shrugged. “I see your point. But I think
you should do it anyway.”

“Would you hook me up?”

He grinned from ear-to-ear. “It’d be my
pleasure. I’d make you my personal canvas. That virgin skin would
be gone.” He somehow made even that sexy. “Do you have any
piercings?”

“My ears.” I tucked my hair behind my ear so
he could see the diamonds.

“That doesn’t count,” he said. “That’s pussy
shit. Toddlers get those pierced. I meant your clit or
something.”

This conversation became too heated for me to
keep eating. “What’s the purpose of that? Decoration?”

He tried not to laugh. “Are you a virgin or
something?”

“No,” I snapped. “I’m twenty-five years old.
How could you possibly think that?”

“Then your sex life must be super
boring.”

“No…” Actually, it kind of was. Sex with Tony
was decent. I’d finish maybe once every ten times. But some
positions would bore me to tears because they didn’t give me any
stimulation whatsoever.

“I’ll explain, sweetheart—“

“Don’t call me that.”

“Well, I can’t call you by your real name,”
he argued. “It’s too sexy.”

“It’s not that sexy,” I argued.

“I like to say a girl’s name in bed, and
every time I say your name, that’s all I think about. So, if you
don’t want me to picture myself fucking you, then you don’t want me
to say your name.” He said all of this without any
embarrassment.

I squeezed my thighs together.

“As I was saying…clit piercings are good for
stimulation. It makes girls come faster and more often. I was with
this one girl who would come if I just blew on it. Even when we did
the reverse cowgirl, she’d come so hard she cried. But then again,
it sounded like her old boyfriend didn’t know her pussy from her
ass so I think I might have had something to do with that.”

I didn’t like picturing him with other women.
I had no idea why.

“So, you should consider it. You touch
yourself, right?”

“Huh?” I blurted it out without thinking.

“You have a vibrator or something?”

This was the last thing I expected us to talk
about tonight. It didn’t necessarily make me uncomfortable, but
talking about sex with Ash made me warm, and not in a good way. I
felt like my attraction to him was on display. “That’s a personal
question…”

“What?” he asked. “We’re friends. I tell you
stuff.”

“But I don’t ask about it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Chill, woman. Sex isn’t
a big deal. People should talk about it more often. Anyway, it
makes masturbation more fun, at least that’s what I hear. You
should look into it.” He winked at me. “I wouldn’t mind doing it
for you.”

“It’s not really my thing…”

“What is your thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sexually,” he asked. “Is there something
weird you’re into?”

“Maybe we should talk about something
else.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Fine. Miss Prissy
can’t handle an adult conversation.”

“It’s not that…”

“Then what is it?” He stared at me from
across the table, looking like my ideal fantasy. I wished he
weren’t my client. I’d give anything to meet him in a bar just so I
could have a night with him. The last time I had sex was with Tony
and that was four months ago.

God, that was embarrassing.

“I guess I’m not that experienced or
adventurous when it comes to sex.”

He listened without reacting.

“My ex…he wasn’t amazing in bed. But then
again, I’ve never had an amazing partner.”

“Did he make you come every time?”

“Maybe once in a while…”

He shook his head. “What a loser.”

“I hear people talk about how amazing sex is,
but honestly, I haven’t had that kind of experience that makes my
toes curl. The times I do orgasm, I almost can’t believe it
happened at all.”

He covered his face and groaned. “I’d shoot
myself if I were a girl. If someone expected me to have sex with
them over and over, they better make me come. And women should hold
themselves to the same standard.”

“But I think it’s just me—”

“No. The guy is just lazy and doesn’t want to
take the time to figure out how to make you come. Lame shit.”

I sipped my wine because I didn’t know what
else to do. My thighs were pressed hard together.

“Let me be of service to you.”

I almost choked on my wine and spit it back
out. “What?”

“Let me pierce it for you. You’ll come a lot
more often.”

“Oh…” I relaxed when I understood his
meaning.

“What did you think I meant?”

“Nothing.” I tried to shake it off.

Suspicion came into his eyes then realization
set in. “I wouldn’t mind pleasing you for the night. I can show you
what sex is supposed to feel like. I’ll make you scream so loud a
notice of eviction will be on your door the next morning.”

He was killing me. “Thanks for the offer but
I don’t need your charity.”

“Charity?” he asked. “I just told you I think
about nailing you every time I say your name. You don’t even need a
clit piercing with me—or a vibrator, for that matter.”

My face was so warm I was about to sweat. My
thighs were pressed so tightly together I thought I would cut off
my circulation. I wanted to fidget but I didn’t want to give away
my vulnerability. The offer was so tempting. If any other guy said
something like that, I’d think he was a weird pervert who needed to
get the hell away from me. But with Ash, it was all I wanted.