Chapter 31
31
William
I walk behind Opal as she navigates her way up the three flights of stairs that lead to my apartment, or, more accurately, the first apartment I ever owned. I cursed as soon as I arrived at the building this morning to find the only elevator broken again.
It was a running gag for the residents of this building when I first moved in. Fortunately, the landlord saw fit to let me use the freight elevator to move my furniture to the third floor back then. I convinced a couple of friends to give me a helping hand in exchange for pizza and beer. On that day, I thought I’d found the apartment I’d spend the rest of my life in. Little did I know that it would eventually become a convenient place for me to bring women I wanted to fuck.
Staring at Opal’s ass beneath the fabric of her dress is making me feel like more of a bastard than I already do. I’m too far into this to correct it now, though. She thinks I live here, so I’ll play that part for at least tonight.
“When did you move in here?” she calls over her shoulder as we approach the third floor.
“A few months after I graduated college.”
“You mean Harvard,” she says, tossing me a look. “If I had gone to Harvard, I would work that fact into every conversation I’d have for the rest of my life.”
I laugh that off as we reach the floor where I once lived. I point to the slightly ajar door of apartment 3B. “That’s me.”
She glances at the door before leveling her gaze on me. This is one of the few times I’ve seen her outside of her bar, and she’s never been dressed like this. She is, without question, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.
“You’re staring at me,” she says, laughing it off. “Is there something on my face? I ate half of a chocolate bar before I came here.”
The admission lures me closer to her. I study her lips carefully, noting how perfectly shaped they are, and how incredible it felt to kiss her.
“Is there some chocolate on my face?” She starts to reach up to swipe her hand over her lips. I’m too quick for her, though, as I catch her hand in mine before it reaches its destination.
I may be holding the special edition of the game under my arm, but with my free hand, I squeeze her fingers before I plant a soft kiss in the middle of her palm. “There’s nothing on your face. You’re so beautiful it’s hard not to stare at you.”
Her lips part slightly as she lets out a slow breath. “Wow.”
“Wow?” I question, trying not to smile. “That’s a good wow, right?”
“The best wow,” she says, nodding slightly. “You know how to make someone feel special.”
It’s more than that, and I need her to know that, so I reach for her chin and pinch it between my fingers as I guide it up so our eyes meet. “You are really special. You are exceptional. You know that, don’t you?”
She gazes directly into my eyes. “I know I’m special. Now, show me your apartment.”
I push the door open and step aside to let her enter first.
She steps into the entryway, her head volleying from left to right and back again. The décor is nothing to write home about. The furniture she’s looking at has been here since day one. I invested a small fortune in the navy blue sectional because the fabric was the softest I ever felt at the time I bought it. The salesperson at the furniture store threw the coffee table into the deal because I agreed to her suggestion to buy a small dining room table, bedframe and mattress that day, too.
The artwork on the walls is all Bauer’s early work. When he painted two large abstracts on canvas, I offered him two hundred bucks for the pair. He jumped on that deal. That opened the floodgates and my wallet because within six months, I bought a few sculptures, two charcoal drawings, and another three paintings.
Two of his more recent paintings are hanging in the main living room of my penthouse. When I walked into this apartment earlier today, I made a mental note to have all of his art shipped to my current home. All it’s doing here is collecting dust. I want it all where I can see it on a daily basis. My brother is talented beyond measure, and I need to start appreciating that more.
“This is nice, William,” she whispers. “It’s really nice.”
I accept the compliment with a smile. “Thank you.”
“You don’t strike me as a fake flower type of guy.” She laughs while pointing at a bouquet of near-perfect violet roses sitting in a white ceramic vase in the center of the coffee table.
The inspiration for those came from her Instagram. There were at least half a dozen posts of her holding violet roses.
I can’t help but chuckle. “I’m not. They’re real, and they’re for you.”
Her breath hitches as she charges toward them, dropping the bag slung over her shoulder onto the sectional. When she reaches the table, she bends over to inhale the fragrance of the roses. My gaze automatically goes to her ass.
She straightens and faces me, luring my eyes to the neckline of the dress. I have no idea how to label it, but it’s giving me a bird’s eye view of the top of her tits. This is the most I’ve ever seen of Opal’s body, and all I want is more.
“I wanted to get you a gift,” she confesses. “I did bring a bottle of wine. It’s in my bag.”
“You brought the game, too,” I point out before setting the special edition of Turquoise Crown next to the vase. “I appreciate that you lugged it all the way here for me.”
“How could I not?” She smiles, and it lights up her entire face. “It belongs in your home so you can play it whenever the urge strikes or whenever someone you want to play with comes over.”
The skin of her neck blooms pink with a blush before it slides over her cheeks.
“You’re the only one I want to play with,” I say in a low tone.
She bites the corner of her bottom lip. “I’m the only one you want to play the game with.”
It’s not framed as a question, but I answer as though it was, “I want to play with you, but it has nothing to do with that game.”
She looks into my eyes. “I want to play with you, too.”
It’s the most roundabout confirmation that a woman wants to fuck that I’ve heard in years, but I’ll take it. I want her desperately, but first, I need to feed her.
“Food first.” I kiss her forehead. “Then we play.”
Both of her eyebrows perk. “Is dinner ready now?”