His Next Chapter

I turn off the water and can hear someone banging on my door. Frozen in fear, I wonder who the fuck it could be. Horror stories of people being robbed from people when they tried to sell something through Craigslist start tumbling through my mind. One of the guys was extremely flirty—is he coming back to rape me? I dry my face and put on my glasses. I slip into my silky white night gown robe and go into the kitchen, only there’s nothing there for security. I hesitate in front of the door, scared and having no idea what the fuck to do. Then the knocking stops. I peek out the peephole and it’s him. It’s fucking him.

“Ms. Parker, I know you’re there. I heard the shower and your horrible singing. This is Lukas Everett, your landlord. Open the door.”

I’m so surprised by the deep rumble of his voice I don’t even think, I just do what he orders. It isn’t until I’ve opened the door I remember that I haven’t dried off and the water has turned the white material into see-through, and now everything, absolutely everything, is on display. Coal-black eyes roam, and everywhere they do leaves fire, and it feels like I’m being physically touched. I’m hot and cold all at once, and his jaw clenches. He takes a step forward and I can’t move. I want to feel him against me, over me. His eyes are on my breasts; my nipples are so hard they hurt, and I can only wait for him to act. For what feels like forever, but is probably only ten seconds, he does nothing except look. He’s so still I wonder if he’s breathing. Burning eyes flick up to my face. My eyes are still wide from surprise and I know I’m flushed from want.

“Go get dressed.” It’s a command, and once again he has dismissed me.

I stumble back and turn and nearly run to my room. Closing the door, even though I know it’s stupid, and lock it as I lean against the door trembling. What the fuck is the matter with me? I wanted so badly for him to reach out and touch me, take me, fuck me against the door hard and fast and out of control. I’m fighting for control of my body, and it’s so hard. I can’t believe how wet I am for him. I hear him walking around on the wood floors of the now empty living room, and it gets me moving.

Quickly, hands shaking, I dress in the clothes I left unpacked. Comfortable cotton underwear and a pale pink bra, more for comfort than support, a pair of jeans and a long, formless gray sweatshirt that goes down to my thigh. I’m dressing for comfort for what will hopefully be a straight drive from Chicago. I’ll be stopping only to fill up and to get out the stiffness that can come from sitting in one place for too long. It’s also perfect for facing the man outside the door. I’m one hundred percent covered up and sexless. Well, not completely, my body reminds me as I sit down to put on my socks and sneakers. I brush out my hair and put it into a ponytail. I know from experience my eyes will dry out during the long drive, and glasses will be better than contacts. I wipe my glasses and hope they don’t fog up again, the way they did when Lukas stared at me.

I open the door to find him by the windows, where I was yesterday. He turns, careful to leave the scarring turned away. His eyes flick over me, and if I’m half as good at reading people as I think I am, he’s relieved by what I’m wearing. Heat is long gone as he looks down on me, and I’m relieved and annoyed. I can’t help it, I cross my arms for protection and face him head-on.

“What do I owe this early morning visit to, Mr. Everett?” Holy shit, do I really have to sound so breathless?

“Ms. Parker, I’m not a stupid man. I can tell you are about to do a runner on me and the last three months of rent you owe. I find that unacceptable. If you skip out, you will interfere with my timetable. Your rent, as disproportionately low as it might be, has been earmarked and is necessary. I did the right thing by honoring your lease, it’s only fair that you do the same. You won’t be leaving.”

His voice is deep and rumbles through him. It reminds me of scotch, the really good, expensive scotch that barely burns but leaves a trail of heat on the way down. The clothes he wears look boring, a simple white button-down shirt and black pants, but they have the sheen of money to them. Regardless of that, simply being on his body makes them far from boring. I can see a white tank undershirt through his dress shirt, and through the light from the window I can see it clinging to a muscular chest and a very nice looking six-pack. Swallowing is hard. He’s broad and his arms have muscle without looking like he’s trying to show off. I’m so busy taking him in, I’ve missed a few things he’s said but I don’t miss the end. Who the hell is he to tell me what I can and can’t do?

“Excuse me? I thought you just told me I wasn’t leaving. As if you have any say in the matter. Newsflash, Mr. Everett, I’ll do what the fuck I want. I don’t want to leave this apartment or Chicago, I don’t have a choice. I lost my job more than six weeks ago, and despite daily pounding of the streets for the last month, I can’t find a new one. You can hit my credit report all you want, but you can’t keep me from walking out.”

He comes closer. He’s only a few feet away when he stops. “How are your office skills?”

“Just fine. I can do letters, file, my Excel skills are fair to middling, I can answer phones, and I’m at fifty-five words per minute.” Damn it, I’m back to sounding breathy.

“Then you’re hired. Darlene quit in a snit two days ago. The pay is fifteen hundred on the first and the fifteenth of every month. You’ll have to deal with the taxes on your own. Start time is eight in the morning, and you’ll have a half-hour lunch. The job will last at least until your lease ends. If you want and your work is good enough, you can stay on after that.”

I’m stunned. Out of everything he could have possibly said, those were the last words I expected out of his mouth. He’s attracted to me too; I know it all the way to my backbone. He also knows I’m attracted to him, and I would slide down to my knees and take him into my mouth if he asked me to. Yet he doesn’t want to want me—he wants me to go away. So why is he putting us together in a situation where we can’t possibly stop from coming into close contact? Does he really think either of us will come out of the situation untouched? His jaw is tight, and I can see he really believes he can get through the next three months without touching me or allowing me to get close. He’s stronger than me and he thinks he’s better than me and my wanting, I can read it in his eyes, and I resolve right then and there to take him on.

“Nine start time and an hour lunch.”

“Eight start time and a forty-five-minute lunch.”

“Fine, but I need coffee and you have to supply it if you want me up that early.”

“I think I can manage that. Come along, it’s after eight already.” He turns, and I follow and wonder what the hell I think I’m doing.