Touch Me (3 page)

Chapter
Five

One week later

“Do
you really have to leave?” Freya asked Maurice, feeling sad that her best
friend had to go, but knowing he couldn’t stay here forever. He had
opportunities elsewhere, a job waiting for him, a career, family, and of course
a girl.

Maurice
smiled, and leaned back on her couch. “I wish I didn’t, believe me. No matter
how anxious I am to start my career and earn enough to not have to live with my
folks, I am going to miss you like crazy.”

She
went over to him and sat on the couch beside him. “You’re only a car drive
away.”

“A
long car drive.”

She
nodded and sighed. “Yeah, but that’s never stopped us before. I mean we have
the phone, FaceTime, and we can always plan on hanging out for the weekend.”
She rested her head on his shoulder, stared at the TV that was muted but showed
an old rerun, and thought about how lonely she’d be. “I’d like to meet Sarah,
too. I am all alone in this house, and having you guys come around will liven
the place up.”

He
chuckled softly and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “We’ve hung out the
last four years whenever we wanted to, and it was just a short walk across
campus to see each other.”

“I
know.” She leaned back and looked into his face. “We’re best friends though,
and that won’t ever change. You’re stuck with me for the long-haul, buddy.” She
leaned her shoulder into his and chuckled.

He
smiled again and nodded. There was no sexual chemistry between them. They were
only friends, the best of friends. They’d spoken about this, especially after
that drunken night. It was what it was, and at the end of the day she was glad
she had Maurice in her corner.

“I
better get on the road though,” he said a little disappointed. “My parents and
Sarah are waiting.” There was this blush that stole over his cheeks at the
mention of the girl he was going to see waiting for him back home.

Freya
didn’t give him a teasing jab at that, just smiled and felt so glad he was
happy. “Okay, but you promise to call as soon as you get there.”

“Of
course.” He gave her a big hug and then stood. His bags were already packed and
sitting by the front door.

Over
the last week he’d helped her with the house, gone shopping with her, and just
been there for her. She had enough money in her savings from what she’d earned
working odd jobs during college, but she also had a trust fund her father had
left her for when she turned twenty-one. In all honesty she didn’t have to
work, not with what her father had left her, and the fact she had no mortgage.
But Freya wanted to work, wanted to be able to go out into the real world every
day and make something of herself. She’d worked too hard in school not to use
her degree.

She
stood and walked over to his bags, grabbed one off the ground, and opened the
front door. Freya walked with Maurice out to his car, and after his bags were
in the backseat, and they were standing in front of the other, she reached out
and pulled him in for a hug.

“Be
safe driving, and call me when you get home.” She felt him nod. Maurice pulled
back, and after a watery smile on her part, Maurice was in his car and driving
away.

And
so it began, the start of her lonely life.

She
turned and looked at her father’s house. No,
her
house now. She’d made it her home. Although she’d kept some of
her father’s and mother’s things, some furniture, pictures, and even some
dishes, she’d gotten new things that complemented who she was now. There were
no memories of Meghan, and as strange as that kind of was, it was also freeing.
She knew she could move on without letting things get in the way.

Yes,
this was the first day of her life, of the rest of her life, and she knew her
mother and father would be proud. Hell, she was kind of proud herself and where
she was right now.

****

 
Freya
grabbed a bottle of blush wine, looked it over like she actually knew what she
staring at, and decided on getting it on the sole fact that she liked the
color. She wasn’t a big drinker, but she did have a wine rack in her kitchen,
one her father said her mother had made when she was in high school, and Freya,
feeling pretty sentimental about it, wanted to stock it with wine.

After
putting it in her basket, she looked at a bottle of ice wine, and was drawn to
the fact it was very sweet, and of course the gorgeous iridescent blue bottle.
She placed it in her basket, as well.

She
walked down the aisle, went over to the beer section, and picked up some
apricot ale. But when she turned around, the six-pack in her hand, everything
stopped inside of her. The man that was standing at the end of the aisle,
dressed in a dark three-piece suit, his short dark hair styled immaculately,
and holding a bottle of red wine, was Elijah.

Her
heart had momentarily stopped in her chest, but now, as she stared at him
longer, harder, it started beating faster, harder. He looked the same, but
older in the sense that he seemed more distinguished, more established. He’d
aged well, so well. She could even see the outline of his muscles underneath
his suit.

God,
he looked good, and she remembered all the talks they’d had during the years
he’d stayed with Meghan. But what she remembered most was that last
conversation she’d had with him at the house, the one when she’d been drunk,
and he confessed the divorce, how unhappy he was, and that he knew she’d make
it because Freya was strong. They might have talked to each other one time when
she was in school, but it had been that conversation, even drunk, that left an
impression on her.

Of
course she wanted to talk to him, to catch up, but she was nervous. Freya hated
that, hated that after living in the same house with him for several years,
looking up to him because he was a genuinely nice and good man, she was afraid.

Swallowing
past her nerves, she tightened her hold on the cardboard box that held her
six-pack, and contemplated just turning and checking out. Surely they’d have
nothing to talk about. Of course Freya had thought about him, wondered how he
was, what he was doing. She’d seen him in the papers, knew how successful he
was now, but that didn’t excuse the last four years of no contact. They had
very different lives now, well, at least he did.

She
was frozen to the spot, not wanting to turn and run like some kind of child.
But then Elijah turned around, lifted his gaze from the bottle of wine he held,
and their eyes locked. For a second neither moved, neither spoke, and it was
like the air around them grew thick.

“Freya?”
Elijah said in a shocked voice, and moved a step closer. Without breaking eye
contact he placed the bottle in the basket he held, grinned, and she about lost
all common sense as she took in the flash of straight white teeth. He was so
handsome, so masculine and powerful looking. He was tall, much taller than she
was, and when he was right in front of her the scent of the cologne he wore had
her slightly dizzy.

What’s wrong with you?

“Elijah…”
She swallowed again, her throat feeling dry and scratchy. “It’s been a long
time.

His
smile faded, and he nodded. “Four years.” His voice was so deep, so manly. A
shiver worked its way through her body. “You look the same.” He took a step
back and slid his gaze up and down the length of her body. Although she knew it
was probably innocent, she couldn’t help the heat that washed through her. “You
look so grown up, not like the girl that left for college four years ago.”

She
felt her cheeks heat, knew she was blushing, but she couldn’t help it. The way
he looked at her, as innocent as it may be, made her feel on display, made her
feel like she wasn’t this teenager looking at Elijah in a friendly manner.
Licking her lips, she tried to smile without it looking awkward. “Thank you?”
she asked it as a question, and started chuckling when he grinned.

She
felt a little foolish, but the longer she stood here with him, the more she
grew comfortable. There was this little feeling throughout her body, a
tingling,
a
warmth … an electrifying sensation. She
didn’t know any other word for it except arousal and awareness, and that in
itself made her feel bad and a little unnerved. She shouldn’t want Elijah, not
like this, not with this heat moving through her.

“It’s
a good thing,” he said and the cleared his throat. He lowered his gaze to the
alcohol she had in her cart and the six-pack she held. “Are you hosting a
party?”

She
looked at the bottles of wine, and shook her head, smiling. This was going to
sound bad. “No, no party. It’s all for me.” She looked at him, and her smile
widened.

He
lifted a brow, clearly confused or amused as to why she’d have so much liquor.

“My
mother’s wine rack.” It didn’t take him long to realize what she meant.

He
nodded once, and for a second the silence stretched between them, slightly
thick, very tense, and she knew maybe he was thinking about the past. She sure
as hell was.

She
cleared her throat. “Well, I better go.”

He
didn’t say anything at first.

“It
was great seeing you, Elijah.” When she went to turn away he took a step toward
her, stopping her.

“Listen,
it’s been a long time, a really long time. How about dinner? We can catch up?”

Her
heart started beating faster, the thoughts she had of them eating dinner with
candles between them, the past not at the surface, and just the two of them
making her feel like a silly schoolgirl.

“It’s
just dinner, Freya,” he said and smiled.

“I’d
like that. I’d really like that, Elijah.”

He
exhaled deeply, almost as if he’d been holding his breath. “Is your number still
the same?”

She
nodded.

“How
about I call you tomorrow and we can set something up?”

“Okay.”
She felt so out of place right now, and she hated that. This was Elijah, and
she shouldn’t feel weird or awkward around him. But the fact remained she
wasn’t having the most friendly feelings toward him right now.

The
thoughts that were rushing through her head weren’t exactly innocent. It was
strange feeling anything more than affection toward Elijah, and although she’d
thought he was so handsome back in the day, she had never even considered or
thought about crossing that line. But now, now she was thinking about crossing
that line.

It
was foolish, and she needed to leave to get her head on straight.

“I
look forward to talking to you again. Elijah,” she said with a slightly shaky
voice. Before she could move toward or away from him, Elijah stepped closer,
had his basket on the ground, and had her in his arms. He gave her a big hug,
wrapped his big, strong, and muscular arms around her, and Freya closed her
eyes. She actually closed her eyes for how good it felt to be in his arms.

“It’s
really good to see you, like a breath of fresh air,” he said and then chuckled.
“I swear I didn’t mean for that to come out as creepy as it did.”

It
was her turn to laugh now. They broke away. She nodded because she didn’t know
what to say, and then she lifted her hand in a wave and left. After she checked
out and was back in her car she rested her head on the seat and closed her
eyes.

What
in the hell was going on with her?

Chapter
Six

One week later

Freya
looked at herself in the mirror one last time, breathed out a heaving sigh, and
hated the fact she was so damn nervous. It was just dinner, just one meal
catching up with an old friend at his penthouse apartment in the city.

At his freaking penthouse
apartment.

But
even though this was just Elijah, just dinner, inside Freya felt like she was
moving a hundred miles per hour,
and
going twenty different directions at the same time.

“It’s
just dinner,” she said and closed her eyes. After a second she opened them
again, stared at her reflection at the fact she was happy with what she saw,
happy with the woman she’d become. She wasn’t some young, foolish girl that was
lost, not knowing where she should go with her life.

She’d
just wanted to leave, to forget about everything. Even up until she’d come back
here after she graduated she’d not known if this was where she wanted to
settle. But the she’d stepped inside her home, the house her father left her
because he wanted her to be taken care of, and she felt like everything would
be okay. She
knew
everything would be
okay.

Turning
from the mirror she grabbed her purse and keys, smoothed her hands over her
pants, and walked toward the front door. Once in her car and heading into the
city, her mind was a jumbled mess of thoughts about how she needed to calm
down, how she needed to put all thoughts about Elijah that weren’t friendly in
manner out of her head.

Freya
couldn’t even understand why her attraction to Elijah had been so sudden, so
consuming. She hadn’t felt this way four years ago. Of course she’d felt the
strength that came from him, the intelligence, attractiveness, and power that
he’d emitted. She’d always felt safe around him, and that had been so
comforting.

But
he’d been married to Meghan, even if he hadn’t been happy, and that had been
the biggest block on her emotions, and why she’d never seen him as anything
more. At least that’s what she assumed.

But
things were different now. He wasn’t married, she was single, and years had
passed.

“It’s
just dinner,” she said again, under her breath. She was sweating between her
breasts; her hands would be shaking if she wasn’t griping the steering wheel so
tightly, and her heart was racing.

Twenty
minutes later and she was entering the city’s limits. The buildings were high,
the sidewalks crowded, and the traffic murderous. Another ten minutes just
trying to get through the traffic had her hair standing on end. By the time
she’d pulled up to the gate that would allow her access to the underground
garage of Elijah’s apartment building, she felt dizzy. After entering the code
he’d given her, the gates opened, and she descended into the basement of the
garage.

Freya
pulled into a spot and parked, cut the engine, and then breathed out and rested
her head on the steering wheel. This nervousness didn’t have anything to do
with the horrible traffic, and had everything to do with her growing emotions
for a man she shouldn’t want.

Maybe you should have just taken
him up on his offer to pick you up?

No,
because at least with her driving herself she had some kind of control. Being
confined in the same car with him surely wouldn’t have been the smartest move,
not when she felt lightheaded just thinking about him.

If
she was going to do this then she needed to be an adult, needed to understand
that her emotions didn’t dictate how she acted around someone. Freya needed to
grow up. She wasn’t a teenager looking up to a man that was much older than she
was, that had his life on track while she was living one that was out of
control.

She
could do this, could have dinner with Elijah, and tell herself that they could
have a platonic relationship, could rekindle the friendship they’d had all
those years ago. Hell, that was probably all Elijah wanted with her anyway, and
that was good, smart. That’s what they both needed.

That
was what she told herself anyway, even if it didn’t feel right.

****

Elijah
stared at the screen that showed him the garage, showed him Freya sitting in
her car seeming to talk to herself. Even though he wasn’t next to her he could
tell she was nervous.

He
rubbed his palms down his slacks, his body controlled, coiled. He knew how to
hide how he felt, how to be the shark he was when doing meetings, mergers, and
being able to have the stone-cold and ruthless reputation he had in his
business. He may seem like he was not affected right now, on the outside at
least, but inside he was strung tight, anxious, nervous, and anticipated seeing
Freya.

He’d
seen her at the liquor store and she’d looked like she’d wanted to run. He
could understand that need, because they hadn’t seen each other in so long. He
watched her finally get out of the car, walk over to the elevators that would
take her to his private penthouse, and knew he had to keep his collected attitude
in place.

He
turned and glanced at the table he’d had set, the meal in the center, between
the plates, and the fact he felt like a fucking teenager going on his first
date. This wasn’t even a date, wasn’t anything like that, and never could be.
It wasn’t even that she was so much younger than he was. It was because of the
history they had, and the fact he’d been married to Meghan, Freya’s former
stepmother. Having anything that wasn’t platonic with Freya felt incredibly
inappropriate.

He’d
had a professional catering company come in and make the meal and create the
place settings. The truth was Elijah couldn’t cook a meal that was edible if it
would have saved his life.

It
was about ten minutes later before Freya was knocking on his front door, and he
knew it didn’t take that long to come up from the garage. He could see her
standing on the other side of his door, or even in the elevator for several
minutes, contemplating why she was here, what she was doing, and how things
were playing out. Hell, Elijah had thought those things since the moment he saw
her again after the last four years, and especially over the last week.

She
didn’t have to tell him she felt something, that spark of awareness that didn’t
have anything to do with the fact they knew each other. He’d felt it when he
first saw her last week, saw it on her face, the way she looked so nervous, so
unaware of the electricity that passed between them.

He
couldn’t explain it, couldn’t rationalize it. It just was. But just because
Elijah found Freya gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous in fact, that didn’t mean he’d
planned this dinner to try to get her in bed. He wouldn’t do that to her,
wouldn’t try to make her another notch in his bedpost.

She
was special, really damn special, to him.

He’d
gone too many years living a life that was successful, although it felt
meaningless. He’d told himself never again would he allow himself to get
wrapped up in a pretty face, to fall for a woman that wouldn’t see him as
anything but a paycheck. Meghan had been like that, and that had been so many
years ago, well before he’d made it as big as he had.

           
He just wished he hadn’t been so
blind to the person Meghan had really been. He’d been stupid, blinded by
superficial things, and he’d missed out on years of his life living with a
woman that hadn’t wanted more than what was in his bank account.

No,
Freya was different. He’d seen her back in the day as a young woman who didn’t
know what she wanted in life, didn’t know where she was going. She was trapped
in a life she didn’t want because that’s all there was for her, her only
option. But then she’d moved out, moved on, and four years later she’d made
something of herself … found herself. Elijah could see that in her face, in the
way she held herself.

He
took a deep breath in, and exhaled slowly.

Making
his way toward the front door he opened it. Freya was wearing this loose
fitting white blouse. It had these tiny blue buttons going halfway down the
front, and it was hard not to notice the way her breasts pressed again the
material. She’d thickened out in these last four years, but it was in a good
way. She wasn’t too thin, not like the women he’d surrounded himself with since
his divorce.

She
was perfect all the way around.

“Hi,”
she said softly.

“Hi.
Come in.” He held the door open and moved to the side, letting her enter. She
was looking around at his place as she passed the threshold, and all Elijah
could do was stand there. She smelled incredible, and the scent that came from
her, all sweet and lemony, had his cock stirring. But he had strong willpower,
knew how to control himself, and he stopped his arousal as best he could. He
wouldn’t ruin the relationship with his sexual thoughts, not when they hadn’t
seen each other in so long and that would definitely be going in the wrong direction.

But
he’d be lying if he didn’t admit he’d thought about her in the dirtiest of
ways, especially during this last week. And that made him feel like a fucking
bastard.

She
walked in, and he shut the door. For several minutes he let her look around,
didn’t say anything, but couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She was small
compared to him, probably at least a foot shorter than his height. The pants
she wore did nothing to hide the fact she had a full ass, and he could see her
very womanly hourglass figure. God, he felt like a pervert for thinking these
things about her, for seeing her as some kind of sexual object. But she wasn’t
just a sexual object to him. She was Freya, a grown woman that he’d felt
protective of when he’d been married to that bitch Meghan.

God,
just thinking about Meghan, even all these years later, had his blood boiling.

“Do
you talk to her still?” Freya asked, her back still to him, but she was further
in the house now. She took the three steps it required to get to the living room,
one that had floor to ceiling windows and overlooked the city. Currently it was
dark, and the lights from the buildings made a million twinkling glows in front
of them.

“Her?”
Elijah had an idea of who she meant, even if no name had been said. Freya was
either a mind reader, or this was just as awkward for her as it was for him
because of their past, and the one person that had connected them for those
years.

Freya
stopped at the couch, ran her fingers over the back of it, and looked over her
shoulder. He could tell she was nervous, but she was hiding it well. What she
couldn’t hide was the fact her fingers lightly shook.

“Meghan?”
Her voice kind of cracked at the end, but she turned away quickly, obviously
realizing she’d just voiced her uncomfortable feeling.

Elijah
hated this, hated the tension, and so he walked toward her, stopped behind her,
and as much as he was trying to look at the view and not her reflection, he
couldn’t help it. She stared back at him, the glass creating this false
confrontation between them. He was a few feet from her, not touching her, but
he could feel her body heat, could smell the sweet scent of her.

“She
moved away with her new husband. I haven’t talked to her in years, but the last
time we spoke, which happened to be by chance since we ran into each other, she
made sure to tell me about how wonderful her life was.” He lowered his gaze to
Freya’s cleavage, what he could see in the reflection that was.

“Is
this as strange for you as it is for me?” she asked in a very soft voice.

He
didn’t respond, just nodded. He took hold of her shoulders, turned her around,
and as much as he wanted to kiss her these feelings were coming out of left
field.

“Listen,
it’s just you and I here, just friends,” he said, wanting her to be comfortable.
Her eyes widened for a second, and then she lowered her head. The dark fall of
her hair covered her face so much that he couldn’t get a good look at her.

“Friends,
you’re absolutely right.” She lifted her head and looked at him again. “I think
it’s just weird seeing as we haven’t seen each other in so long.”

His
heart was beating fast, and the urge to say fuck that invisible line he
shouldn’t cross, waged war inside of him. But, he took a step back, gestured to
the table, and put on the fakest fucking smile he could muster.

“How
about we eat before it gets cold?”

She
seemed to relax slightly, nodded, and they made their way to the table.

For
the next hour they ate and talked, and he asked her every conceivable question
he could think of. He wanted to know everything about her, and the longer they
spoke, the more he listened to her the more he realized she’d grown so much. He
wasn’t speaking in the physical sense, although she had done that as well.
Elijah was speaking about the fact she was so damn smart, so witty and
intuitive.

He
could listen to her for hours, and that’s what he did instead of eating,
finding the taste of his food bland compared to the melody of her voice.

Fuck,
he sounded like a schoolboy now, for sure, but he couldn’t help it. Compared to
the women he’d associated with before and after Meghan, Freya was a breath of
fresh air. She wasn’t conceited, didn’t think about herself before others, and
in fact had made it her career aspiration to help the less fortunate and the
ones that were sick. Just looking at her, seeing her face light up as she told
him about her time in college, about the fact she’d been afraid to come back
home, to have everything resurface again, made this very protective part of him
rise up.