A Dream Come True
His black car sits out in front of the bar.
The lights of the city reflect off the dark paint.
I don’t think I have ever seen a cleaner car in my life.
I know I haven’t. His hand brushes against my waist as he moves around me to open the passenger side door.
Do men still do that these days? His fingertips gently touch my hip as he moves past me to the driver's seat.
“Are you going to get in?” He asks while standing on the other side of the car. There is a soft tone to his voice and a smile to match. It’s enough to melt the fishnets off my legs. I offer a nervous smile before sliding onto the leather passenger seat.
The dark lettering of his tattoos on his hands matches the color of the steering wheel and the leather seating.
Silver rings shine brightly on both of his hands, reflecting every light we pass.
I catch myself biting my lower lip at the sight of his hands gripping tightly around the steering wheel.
Way to be fucking inconspicuous, Thalia.
I try moving in the small seat, pressing my thighs together the best I can to try to hide my excitement.
His eyes burn through the small holes in my fishnets as my skirt hikes up my thigh each time I move.
Crossing my legs the best I can, I do my best attempt at trying not to expose myself.
“Nervous?” Lee asks, looking back at the road. Fuck yeah, I’m nervous.
“No… are you?” Who the hell am I kidding?
He has to know that I am. He already knows I listen to his show every night.
Alone. After work. His eyebrows raise in response to my answer, while his eyes stay focused on the road.
I watch his lips curve into a small smile under his dark beard.
He’s content to leave me with my question unanswered.
“Most people don’t drive in the city.” I will say anything to break this awkward silence.
“I’m not most people, Sweetheart.” He turns to look at me.
Fuck, that smirk will be the death of me.
His voice sounds just like it does on the show—low, smooth, and just a hint of that New York accent.
The soles of my boots squeak with every movement I make.
Gripping my jacket closer, I hug it tightly around my body. Why do I suddenly feel so vulnerable?
“Are you cold?” He inquires. My eyes never leave his hands as he reaches over to turn the dials on the dash to turn up the heat.
I fix my eyes on them at every move they make when the car shifts and changes gears.
The way he grips the shift knob makes me wonder how they would feel going up my thighs.
I bite my lower lip again at the thought of the red marks he could make around my pale skin.
“Thank you.” The heat from the vents hits my face. Instantly adding to the heat under my skin. Damn, how far away is his house?
“Not much farther now. The traffic in the city doesn’t help, though.” He unknowingly answers another one of my questions. I smile and turn towards the window, forgetting about my skirt rising, and I feel his eyes again on my thighs.
My jaw drops as his car slows down, the closer we get to what looks like the biggest parking garage ever known to man. He drives up two levels of empty spaces. His car comes to a stop in a spot that has his name painted at the top of the space.
L. Reynolds.
I have only ever seen something like this in shopping malls and airports.
“Home sweet home,” he says, putting the car in park. Still looking ahead and fidgeting with the hem of my shirt, I reach towards the handle on the passenger door—
“Don’t you fucking think about it,” he says in the same tone from earlier. Something about it still shakes me to my core. He turns to face me with a wide grin on his face. I nod as I wait for him to get out of his car. His arms go tense under his black jacket while he turns off the ignition.
“Who the fuck said chivalry was dead?” I curse under my breath, clutching my black purse.
What the hell am I doing? I don’t know this person.
I should know better by how many episodes of his show I’ve listened to.
Sure, I guess I don’t really listen to the content some of the time.
I shift in my seat and look down at my lap.
“This is your fucking fault,” I admit aloud.
“Everything alright?” Lee asks, opening my door. His hand is still on the handle.
“Of course.” I manage to fake a smile on my red lips as I slide out of the passenger seat. His hard chest brushes against my back, making the goosebumps on my arms stand out. The echo of the car door closing fills the parking garage. It makes me nearly jump out of my skin in my platform boots.
“Right this way, Sweetheart.” He takes my hand in his, covering it with his. He pulls me to his side and we quickly walk across the street and into the large building in front of us. If I told you I don’t have the biggest smile on my face, I would be lying.
The doors to the lobby are huge, tinted glass doors.
Lee nods in the direction of the doorman as we walk in.
“Hello, Mr. Reynolds.” It’s like he reads from a script.
His uniform is an all black suit in pristine condition.
What is this, The Plaza from Home Alone?
The look on Lee’s face is far from welcoming.
I guess he isn’t much for conversation. He makes a quick line for a nearby elevator, pulling me along with his arm now wrapped around my waist.
“You have a lobby? Scratch that, a doorman?” I ask probably louder than I should as soon as the elevator doors quietly shut.
“You don’t?” His deep chuckles send goosebumps up my arms as he turns his head just slightly to face me. The split second of waiting in the elevator seems like lifetimes before he pushes the button labeled PH. It lights up yellow with one single touch.
“Who the hell are you?” I press, only half joking.
“You want to find out, Sweetheart?” You have no fucking idea how much I want that. I can feel his strong gaze through his hooded and lustful eyes. They trail from my lips down to my thighs.
“I thought that’s why I came with you.” My voice is now quiet and shaky.
Am I trying to flirt again? I am doing a terrible job.
Amusement covers his face, smiling from ear to ear.
Yep, it’s official. I’m awful at this whole flirtation thing.
He turns his head and looks forward at the elevator doors.
The silver doors open to the sound of a quiet ding.
“This is our floor.” He continues to hold my hand as we walk out.
We both come to a stop in front of the door to his apartment.
He fishes his keys out of the side pocket of his leather jacket.
I look down at his hands as he slides the key into the lock.
The echo of the clicking sound from the lock resounds in the hall.
“After you.” He opens the door, leaving enough space for me to get around him.
I look around his place and drop my purse by the entrance at the sheer shock of its size.
“Holy shit! This is your apartment?” His penthouse is designed to resemble the places you only see in magazines.
Everything from the furniture to the cabinets is a modern black aesthetic.
Aside from an empty whiskey glass on the dark wood end table, his place is pristine.
There is no way he could have arranged it.
This has “hired designer” written all over it.
He stands nearby with his arms crossed over his chest. Damn, he’s going to kill me with that smug look he does.
“This is home.” He comes closer. “Let me take your coat.” He grabs the back of the collar.
Brushing my neck with the tips of his knuckles, moving my hair out of the way.
He slides it down my arms, leaving me in my red mesh shirt.
“You want a drink?” He asks, hanging my jacket on the coat rack by the door.
“No, I think I had enough for the evening.” I want to remember this moment. On lonely nights, it will replay over and over in my mind.
“Water?” He counters with a coy look, now leaning in front of his open fridge. He holds the bottle out in my direction.
“Yes, please,” I reply quietly, walking towards his kitchen, the heels of my boots clicking on the black tile .
“Please? I like the sound of that. You want to beg for it, Sweetheart?” His voice deepens as he holds the bottle over my head teasingly. My heart beats faster, and I move in closer to his chest.
“Please.” I look up at his full lips. Is this happening? I have dreamed about this many nights.
“Please, what, sweetheart?” He sets the bottle of water down on the granite counter.
Please, what? I don’t know. I never thought I would get this far.
Can I please have my water? No, that’s not it.
Please touch me. Do something. Say something, Thalia.
Stop thinking and just do it . My hands reach up his sculpted chest under his tight black T-shirt, slowly tracing over all his defined lines.
Fuck, he’s just like my fantasy. What the hell?
Who the hell has a body like this? This can’t be real.
He’s like one of those statues of those Greek gods.
I know this isn’t happening to me right now.
It’s another one of my dreams, and I’m going to wake up any minute in my bed with Artemis at my feet.
“What do you want?” His question breaks me out of my trance. His silver eyes peer down to meet mine, searching for the answer that is surely reflected there.
“What do you want, Sweetheart?” He asks again. He places his fingers gently under my chin, lifting my head to meet his gaze. No, it’s happening. My hands grip the bottom of his shirt.
“Do you want me?” My eyes go wide at his words, and I nod. “Use your words, Thalia.”
“Yes,” I whisper, the word soft, but we both know what I want. I can hear his intake of breath at my response before he grabs my face in his hands.