Stolen (10 page)

I need my phone.

I’m not going to let myself hope it’s by any divine
intervention that the café isn’t closed when I decide last minute to go there
first instead of the college, but I admit I do say a small prayer of gratitude
in case it is. To be clear, the café is actually closed, but the guy who
usually makes my drink is still in there cleaning up for the night. When I
start banging on the door like a lunatic, he seems a little too unfazed, making
me feel bad for him for being so used to coffee addicts and their horrid
behavior. He probably thinks I’m going to rob him for some coffee beans because
no self-respecting coffee lover would rob a coffee shop for anything other than
coffee, not that I’ve thought about this.

Before he has a chance to tell me they’re closed, a
fact I can clearly tell, I blurt out that I lost my phone and ask if anyone
found it. Opening the door wide for me to come in, he closes the door behind me
so no one tries to sneak in after hours, smiling at me as he heads behind the
counter, retrieving the holy grail, or my phone if you want to get technical. A
huge smile spreads across my face and I lunge at him, grabbing my phone from
his hands and pulling him to me in a tight hug at the same time.

“Thank you so much! You have no idea how happy I am
that you found it!” I’m ready to cry, but that seems a bit ridiculous, so I
rein it in, reminding myself it’s just a phone and also that I have this poor
boy in a death grip over it.

I jump back, letting my hands fall to my side, and
smile at him impishly, hoping beyond hope that he doesn’t press assault charges
on me, or worse, never serve me coffee again. Somehow, he always knows what I
want and gets it perfect every time. That would be a fate worse than death. I
may be slightly dramatic right now, but hey, I’m allowed to be after the night
I’ve had.

“Ya know, I can honestly say no one has ever been so
happy to get back something they lost as you are. I kinda wish they were,
though; it would make my day a lot more interesting,” he says with a smile and
a wink.

Did he really just wink at me? That’s too adorable,
but why today of all days? I can’t think about anything else right now but
getting home, calling Bruce, and forgetting all about Kyle and men entirely.
I’m going to join a convent, I think. Well, maybe. Maybe not, I don’t know;
that does seem a bit excessive. I’ll decide tomorrow on that one. It’s not as
if I need to join a convent just to remain celibate. I’m managing that just
fine on my own, and it looks like I will be for some time to come.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at him, but if
it’s made him uncomfortable, he doesn’t say anything. I know I should leave. He
has work to do, I have to get home, I have to call Bruce and tell him about having
possibly found the person who has been stalking me, and most important I need
to keep myself from becoming the trollop I’m afraid I’m on my way toward
becoming. This guy is kinda sexy, with dark hair cut short, a weird gray/blue
shade of eyes, a body tall enough to look down into my eyes, or for me to look
up into his while I am on my knees in front of him . . .

Oh my God! Trollop! Trollop! Trollop! Oh who am I
kidding; I am plain and simply a trashy whore right now, ready to jump from one
man to the next.

Slut!
My inner bitch
feels the need to chime in once again.

I clear my throat, the throat of a newly anointed
slut, and try for normal conversation.

“So . . . Alex,” I say
after reading it off the nametag pinned to his shirt. “Are you almost done for
the night?” I think that may have come out a bit raspy. Even to my own ears, I
sounded a little seductive. I’m not sure if I’m upset by that. Did I mention
I’m a slut now?

“Yeah, actually, I just have to put the chairs up on
the tables and lock up, then I’m outta here. What are you up to tonight?”

What am I up to tonight? I don’t know any more, except
that I don’t want to go home. I don’t want to face reality, my reality. I shrug
while helping him put the chairs on the tables. As we finish the last table, he
turns to me and asks if I’d like a latte—on the house? I nod enthusiastically,
not even trying to hide it. His face lights up as he turns to go behind the
counter, shaking his head in amusement the whole way.

I lean over the short counter where customers normally
pay and watch as he works. He seems so comfortable in his body, moving
effortlessly with everything he does. The room fills with the aroma of coffee,
drowning out any possible cologne he might be wearing, making him smell like
the sexiest man alive.

I know he caught me staring, but he doesn’t say
anything about it; doesn’t tease me, doesn’t change how he’s moving in an
attempt to show off. He continues with his task, and when he hands the cup to
me, I bring it to my lips, blowing on the steam before sipping the
deliciousness. Mmmm, it’s almost orgasmic, which I embarrassingly confess
aloud. I nearly choke on my coffee when I realize that, in fact, I did say that
aloud. I play it smooth, though, completely pretending I never said it. Can’t get
much more mature than that.

He’s smirking at the comment, but passes over this
prime opportunity to embarrass me, instead asking if I want to sit down and
help him eat one of the day-old pastries he was going to take home. I inform
him that the caloric intake from this vanilla latte is enough for one day
without adding that. I point to a delicious looking chocolate muffin, peeling
my eyes away before I lose my resolve.

“It’s a skinny latte, and it’s not like you need to
watch your weight. You’re gorgeous. You shouldn’t deprive yourself of the joys
in life like yummy chocolate muffins,” he says while waving the muffin under my
nose.

“Fine,” I huff. “Give me a bite, but I swear, when I
gain twenty pounds from this one bite, I’ll be banging at your door reminding
you of this conversation.”

“I think I’ll take my chances,” he begins in a normal
voice that drops an octave as I lean in to take a bite of the muffin while it’s
still in his hand.

I wipe the corner of my mouth and moan in satisfaction
as the sweetness combusts in my mouth, rolling my eyes shut, enjoying the
moment, and enjoying it all the more when I open my eyes to see him heatedly
staring at me. I don’t turn away. I don’t look down nor hide in shame. I take
the muffin out of his weak grasp, break off a piece from the top, and place it
near his lips, savoring the moment when he surrounds my fingers with his warm
mouth, sucking the chocolate clean from my fingers with his tongue. Our breaths
have both grown ragged, but we seem to be in limbo as to what to do next. A
line has been crossed, but which one? How many more are we willing to cross?

With more willpower than I presently have, he stands,
gently pulling me up with my hand in his, and walks us into the back of the
café, behind the prep counter and into the storeroom. He asks me to wait a
minute, not to leave, as if I would, telling me he’ll be right back. I look
around the room while he’s gone, losing some of that initial desire seeing that
this is just a storeroom, reminding me what I’m doing, or thinking about doing
anyway, and who I’m doing this with. I don’t even know him. What am I thinking?
Just as panic has replaced desire, he’s back. The room feels like a sauna now
that he’s in front of me with gorgeous eyes that have morphed into a deep indigo
blue.

I can’t take my eyes off him, but beyond that, I have
no idea what to do next. I feel jumbled up inside. Am I supposed to do
something, say something? Do I wait for him to? The now tired warning that I
should leave is back, forefront in my brain, but I don’t want to listen to it
anymore. I’m sick of running. For once, I’m going to take command of my life,
even if it’s in a completely reckless way.

I move toward him with more confidence than I think
I’ve ever had. It’s amazing how freeing it is to take charge of my fate.
Standing in front of him, I pull his head down with my hands on the back of his
neck and crash our lips into one another. There are no pretenses here. Clearly
neither of us wants this to be any more than what it is; two people spending
one night together, escaping life for a little while. Nothing wrong with that .
. . right?

No! You ass! The familiar shrill voice in my head says
to me. She’s always nagging me. I need to sedate her.

Shut up and let me have one night! I silently scream
at her. I ignore her after that.

The kiss deepens, hands take over control, and soon
clothes are on the floor. A condom is on and a welcomed pain replaces coherent
thought. He stills, looking slightly mortified, as if this is my first time and
he’s taking my virginity on a storeroom floor. I hold him close when he tries
to pull away, mumbling that it’s just been awhile, but not to stop.

Thank all that’s holy! He doesn’t stop.

 Soon our bodies are glistening with sweat from
the forcefulness of our movements. We’re both falling over the edge, me
screaming out something incoherent and him holding back a moan by biting into
the flesh on my shoulder, causing even more pleasure within me, making my
scream extend into a satisfied moan of my own.

Oh, wow! Just wow!

Pulling out and rolling onto his back, Alex and I lie
panting. That was a workout if I ever had one. I should have indulged more in
that muffin, although I think I just indulged plenty in Alex.

Oh, what have I done? Throwing my arm over my eyes, trying
to keep this soon to be awkward situation from happening, I do everything I can
to stay calm. I would center my chi if I knew what that even meant. Isn’t that
one of those heads that grows grass? Or is that chia? Oh, who cares, you
nitwit!

“Did I hurt you?” Alex breaks the quiet with the one
question I was hoping he wouldn’t ask. I don’t want to get into anything
personal with him about my past, but I guess I owe him something after how
personal we just were with each other.

“You didn’t. I’m sorry if it bothered you. It really
has been a while, so I was a little . . .  tight, I guess.” I wince at
having to say that, but after what we just did, I think I should try acting
like an adult.

“It didn’t bother me at all. I’m just checking. I
don’t want you thinking I’m an ass who doesn’t care about you or how you feel.”

His words are surprisingly sweet, which is exactly
what I don’t need right now. I don’t want this to be sweet. I don’t want this
to be anything. I just wanted one night of not caring, then for life to go on
as it had before.

I sit up, gathering the clothes that are strewn about
around me, separating his from mine, and start dressing. He doesn’t move,
seeming lost in thought while staring at the ceiling, perfectly comfortable
being completely exposed to me. I hope this isn’t a sign of this being a normal
occurrence for him—not that I could judge if it were.

I suppose I should check on him, huh? I’m such a
bitch. I just want to leave. I thought he would want that, too. He’s ruining
this by being a nice guy. Can’t he be like every other guy, all too willing to
get what they want and bail?

“Are you okay?”

His head turns slowly, facing me, letting me in on the
sad look on his face. Would it be bad to say I wish he would look away?

“This never happened, right?” There’s as much sadness
in his voice as there is on his face, and it’s damn near killing me.

Playing dumb is my only option right now. I don’t want
to hurt him, but it looks like I’m going to whether I want to or not. “I don’t
know how this could
not
have happened, and I don’t regret it, if that’s
what you’re asking.”

I hear the irritation in his voice when he mumbles
something about me knowing that’s not what he meant. I don’t want him to hate
me. I did just use him though so I suppose I owe him something.

Placing my hand gently on his forearm, I feel his arm
twitch from the contact, as if I’m hurting him; I won’t lie, that stings a
little, but I continue. “This did happen. I don’t regret it, but I can’t do
anything serious right now if that is where you thought this was going. I’m
sorry if I hurt you, I never meant to, I swear.”

The room is still. It’s quiet, sterile, and the
distant ticking of a clock is beginning to drive me mad, but I wait with him. I
want to run, believe me I do, but I wait. We wait. Finally, he nods, if it’s to
what I said or some inner conversation he’s been having, I suppose I’ll never
know. I follow his lead, coming to stand next to him when he’s dressed and
we’re both putting our shoes back on.

“Can I ask you for one thing?”

He startles me with his words after being quiet for so
long. “Sure . . .” I answer cautiously.

“It’s nothing bad,” he says with a flirtatious smile
and a voice to match. This is much better than the sad, despairing, voice he’d
been using. “Just one more kiss? Not rushed. Not desperate. And for no other
reason than that you want to kiss me as much as I’ve wanted to kiss you for so
long.”

His confession confuses me. I had no idea he ever felt
anything for me. Why didn’t he ever say anything? I don’t ask him, though.
Honestly, I just don’t want to know. I can’t handle knowing I may have
unintentionally hurt him. I agree and wait. I’m starting to think this is all
just a joke, that he isn’t going to kiss me and had never intended to, just as
his lips touch mine. They’re soft, the kiss gentle, so unlike how it had been
before. I get lost in the sensations, taking in everything he’s doing and all
the feelings being elicited by him.