7. Dante
CHAPTER 7
Dante
A naked Faith stood in my shower. I ran my hand over the scruffy whiskers on my chin and contemplated my next move. I never brought girls to my place. What the fuck was I thinking? She was probably soaping herself up with my bar of Dial right now. Sliding it across her stomach, around her ass, and over that stretch of twisty, curly black ink. I shook my head. Enough of that.
I scrounged around, trying to find a pair of sweats that might fit her, so she’d have something clean to put on. As I walked by the bathroom door, I heard the water running and hitting the bottom of the tub. Damn lucky water, probably coursing down her thighs right about now. I pressed the bundle of clothes against my crotch and gave myself a little adjustment. What the hell was wrong with me tonight?
With the threat of my rising attraction temporarily held at bay, I walked into the kitchen. What do I do while I wait? A white tea kettle sat on the stove. It had belonged to my grandmother. She always offered her visitors tea. Women liked tea, right? I ran some water into the kettle, set it back on the burner, and flipped on the gas.
The shower turned off, and I grabbed the stack of clothes I’d found as I walked toward the bathroom.
“Hey, Faith?”
“Yeah?” Her muffled voice floated through the closed door.
“I’ve got some clean clothes here you can put on.”
She opened the door and stood in the doorway a few feet away, wrapped in my large tan towel. Her hair hung in long wet strands, and water droplets sprinkled across her face like giant wet freckles.
As I moved toward her, she pulled the towel tighter across her chest. What was it with her? It wasn’t like I’d rip her towel off or anything... at least not unless she asked me to. Reaching up with one hand, I wiped a particularly large water droplet off her cheek with my thumb and fought the urge to pop it into my mouth.
“You sure you don’t want to, uh, stay for a while?”
“Um, thanks, but I need to get back.” She grabbed the clothes from under my arm and shut the door in my face.
Fuck. Shot down how many times now? I’d been going through a dry spell lately and hadn’t been that close to that much skin in way too long. I adjusted myself again, walked back to the kitchen, and turned off the burner. No tea. I needed to get her out of my place... and fast.
Faith opened the door a few moments later, letting the steam that had built up during her shower escape into the room. My giant T-shirt hung off one of her shoulders, and the sweats pooled around her bare feet as she padded over to where I stood at the stove.
Looked like someone didn’t put on a bra.
She must have noticed where my eyes lingered and crossed her arms over her chest. A wave of pink crept up her face from her neck to her hairline. If she hadn’t looked so embarrassed, I would have laughed.
“Thanks for the clothes. Any chance you’d be willing to go get my friend and ask her to meet me out front by the car?”
“Yeah, um, sure.” My conscience precariously balanced between wanting to invent some excuse to make her stay and rushing her out of my apartment as fast as her well-toned legs would carry her. I forced my feet to move toward the door. “Just give me a couple of minutes.”
Outside, I paused on the steps. What just happened? I was losing my touch. Usually, when I had a half-naked girl in my general proximity, we both ended up sated and satisfied.
Hell, the high-strung redhead had probably never even had a one-night stand. The way she held herself... it was like she’d never lost control once in her whole life. What a waste. Body like a Victoria’s Secret model and apparently the sex drive of a paperclip.
Those books probably were for some stupid professional research. She must be smart—the uptight scholarly type. Definitely long-term material, which meant off-limits for me.
I hadn’t just been burned. My one attempt at a relationship had gone up in a five-alarm blaze of flames, and nowadays, I preferred the short-term, hot and heavy kind of fling. Even if I was interested, I didn’t have time to get involved. Only a couple of weeks into the fall semester, and I could tell already it would take every ounce of energy and patience I had to mentor the group I’d been assigned to in the Entrepreneurial Leadership seminar.
No way would I blow my chance at earning a glowing recommendation from the chair of the department. It would go a long way to getting me out of Newbridge and to making bank out east; didn’t matter how fine she was.
Between the mentorship, my grueling day job, and the part-time gig at the bar, I didn’t have time for more than the occasional one-night stand. Refocused, I moved down the steps and located the two girls still sitting at the bar.
Faith
I stood next to Jess’s car, my gunky clothes stuffed into a plastic bag I’d found under Dante’s sink. The walk of shame from his apartment to the parking lot had me on edge and eager to get home.
“What happened to you?” Jess asked as she tossed me my jacket and purse, then beeped the key fob to unlock the doors.
I shoved my arms into the sleeves of my coat, then climbed inside and pulled the door closed behind me. “You don’t want to know.”
“Like hell I don’t. You disappear to go to the bathroom and an hour later I find you braless in some guy’s clothes?”
I drew my coat tighter around me and crossed my arms over my chest. “Why didn’t you come looking for me?”
Jess glanced my way. “I did, but you weren’t in the bathroom, and I didn’t see you outside either. I thought maybe you were getting some. That bartender walked out right after you, and I had my fingers crossed he was delivering that sloe comfortable screw he offered.”
“Is that the only thing you can think about?” I growled through clenched teeth. “We got locked in the storeroom together. Nobody could hear us banging on the door?—”
“Wait a minute.” Jess put her palm out toward me to silence me. “He was banging you up against the door? Maybe you’re not hopeless after all.”
I swatted her hand down. “Really? He pushed me through a window, and I landed in the dumpster. I stunk to high heaven, so he offered to let me take a shower in his apartment over the bar. Can you please take me home now?” How many times would I have to relive the sheer embarrassment of the evening? I never should have come out tonight.
Jess let out her signature laugh. It fell somewhere between a laugh and a snort, leaning more toward the snorting side.
“Only you, Faith, only you.”
“Only me what?”
“Did you even notice how hot he was?” Jess turned the key in the ignition. “He totally made a play for you. Lock me in a storeroom with someone like him, and you’d have to break down the door and rip me off him to get me out of there.”
Jess was absolutely right, but I would never fully admit the effect he’d had on me. “I suppose he was kind of cute.” I relented a little, twirling a strand of damp hair around my finger.
“Kind of? Robin was ready to jump over the bar after him. And you end up in his shower? Jess shook her head. “I’m just sayin’—”
“Okay, he was hot... freakin’, smokin’, panty-melting hot.” I cradled my head in my hands. “And his hands... first on my butt... and they slipped, and he... agh.” My body reacted as if his hands still cradled my ass. Goosebumps popped up on my arms, and a tremor quaked through me. I shook it off. “Are you happy?”
Jess stared at me for a silent moment, then turned her head to face the road straight ahead, a giant grin plastered across her mug.
“I just don’t have time for this.”
“For what?” Jess glanced over at me. “For a night of sloe comfortable screws? Delivered by a guy who obviously knows how to please?”
“Dante, his name is Dante.”
“That’s right. See, told you it started with a ‘D.’ I was right about that, and I’m right about the fact that you seriously need to get laid. Surely, even you, with your friggin’ six-year plan, can take one night off?”
“You said yourself he’s a player. He’s probably loaded with STDs.”
Jess blew out a long breath. “I give up. You’re hopeless.”
I slumped further down in my seat. No nights off. That’s how I’d lose focus. A guy like Dante didn’t fit into my plans, no matter how my traitorous body responded to him. There would be plenty of time for that later when I’d secured a tenured teaching job in a well-respected literary program.
A part of me knew I’d be better off if I never laid eyes on his hot bod again. The other part of me knew I wouldn’t be able to get him out of my mind until I laid a lot more than eyes on him.
I gazed out the window and wondered—when it came to the sex-on-a-stick bartender, which part of me was going to win?