Chapter 25 Cravings
Chapter twenty-five
Cravings
Oh no, baby. You will absolutely not be going to lunch with him.
I sit back in my seat, having stunned myself with the fierceness and vehemence of my thoughts.
One thing for sure, this woman's a brat. Her last comment about David proved it, and she knew it'd get to me, which is why she said it.
I tilt my head for a moment, thinking. I have nothing against David, absolutely nothing.
I can't find any fault in the guy, other than he's annoying, really.
He's passionate about his job, and thankfully his work ethic is admittedly solid.
But the thought of Sarah speaking to him while he uses a pet name for her, and gets to put his arms around her, and then the fact that she sends some of her clients to him makes me irrationally angry.
So I gotta work to cool myself off. And what's better than to focus on a trip where I get to have her all to myself?
I don't want her to think I'm rude, so I hum a response before clearing my throat and jiggling the mouse to wake up my computer. Thinking of having her to myself, I change the subject back to what we were talking about before we were interrupted.
“So, I upgraded the hotel suite in Vancouver for two beds and a kitchenette. We’re staying four days, flying back on the fifth—”
“Alex,” she whines, interrupting me.
The low sound in her soft voice surprises me, turning me on so viciously that I'm momentarily speechless.
My half-erection comes back at the sound, and it's all I can do to keep the smile I feel tugging on the corners of my mouth from showing.
I don't want her to think I'm overtly interested, especially so soon after what's happened to her.
And especially when I'm trying to finagle my way into convincing her to share a bedroom with me.
“Yes, Sarah?” I tease her back with a little laugh. My eyes hold hers a few seconds longer than I know she's comfortable with, but I don't waiver. Her eyes are like twin pools of dark brown chocolate, inviting me in with their sweetness. If only she knew how much I love sweets. Crave them.
Unbeknownst to my inner turmoil, she scowls at me before leaning forward; the top of her cleavage peeks out from her neckline and makes my mouth go dry.
“I had only planned on staying for three days,” she says, successfully making the grin I've been holding back break free.
She does this thing with her voice where the inflection of her tone goes down, and she whispers some of her words; it's the fucking sexiest thing I've ever experienced in my life.
“Well, now you’re staying five. And bring a swimsuit,” I whisper back, tenting my hands together on the desk. I rub the tips together slightly, wishing to feel her skin on mine again.
“Fine! And I don’t swim. I can’t get my hair wet.” Sarah’s eyes flash at me, and her nose scrunches up, making the tiny hoop in her nose glint in the light coming through the window.
“If you don’t bring one, I’ll be forced to provide one for you… and do you really want to see what I’d choose to put you in?” I say, resisting the urge to lick my lips, turning my head back to my computer screen. But she's not having it.
“Ugh, if I’m hardheaded like you said in the car, then you’re a stubborn ass,” she says under her breath.
I give her an amused laugh, listening to her adorable, infuriated mumbling as she stands up and picks up her bag, and stomps to the door.
“See you at home,” I call out after her with not a care in the world as I browse through internet pages of things to do in Vancouver during our down time at the conference.
She's traveling in first class whether she likes it or not.
She's staying in my room whether she likes it or not. And she's going to enjoy herself, even if it kills me.
Heading out an hour earlier than normal, I see my receptionist, Cathy, gape at me as I pass by her desk. At her expression, my feet slow to a stop. "What's the matter, Cathy, cat got your tongue?" I tease as I move my briefcase to my other hand so I can grab my phone.
Damn, I'm in a good mood.
“Dr. Richardson, you never leave this early!” Cathy remarks. Her eyes are wide in surprise, and a huge smile curves her mouth. “Could it be because of that absolutely adorable woman I saw stomping out of your office on my way back from lunch?” She doesn’t even try to hide being nosy.
I smile back at her. “Cathy,” I tsk, giving her a wink as I open my phone to the apps. “It’s because I have to make dinner, and I'm really looking forward to it.”
Dinner for the adorable woman.
I listen to her laugh as I text, headed out the lobby doors of my practice. It's almost five, and I’d thankfully finished with my work early.
AR: Sarah Beara, do you like spicy chicken salad or regular? Blue cheese or ranch? You know what, I’ll just get everything so you can have options...
Shamelessly using her nickname, I pocket my phone without a care. Because if dickhead David can do it, then so can I.
I tighten my lips and throw my briefcase in the passenger side of my vehicle, realizing this is my last night making dinner for her before she moves into her apartment the next day.
My eyes narrow in displeasure. I don't like that.
I know I haven't known her on a personal level long enough to be feeling like this, but I can't help it.
She's crawled into me and settled herself in.
It's discombobulating, to say the least.
But I won’t overstep boundaries, not all the time anyway. I know she will need her space. I can also acknowledge that I don’t want to give her any.
Jesus Christ, what is wrong with me? We’re practically strangers.
I pull out of my reserved spot and head to the store. Except, we don’t feel like strangers, I muse, not turning the radio on, content to be lost in my own thoughts.
Thoughts of Sarah, the non-stranger.
I'm busy talking with Johnathan a couple hours later through google video, truly enjoying the vibe of my home tonight for the first time in a long time.
The delicious smell of fried chicken permeates the air, and the sounds of “Land of 1000 Dances” gives the kitchen a playful ambiance that I hope lifts her spirits when she walks through the door.
I wonder when she's going to show up because she should have been here at least forty-five minutes ago.
I debated calling her, but I don't want her to think I'm too clingy since that could possibly chase her away.
The satisfying sound of the sizzle of the grease frying pulls my attention away momentarily, and I work hard to get a grip.
"So, you're actually cooking for two, huh? You remember how to do that?" Johnathan teases.
I laugh, flipping the two cutlets in the skillet, hoping I didn't make them too salty.
"Come on, I'm not a Neanderthal," I joke, turning the screen to show him all the salad fixings chopped and ready to go on the counter, as well as the wine chilling in an electronic holder.
Just then the hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I half turn my head, feeling her close.
My skin tingles when I see in my peripheral that she's right behind me.
Sarah sings a line of the song, and it's beautiful, filling me with a shot of pleasure that's so warm it's almost dizzying.
She snuck up behind me, tapping me on the left shoulder before faking to my right.
I turn to face her head on, and that shot of pleasure expands even more somehow at the sight of her long hair now out of its bun, swishing as she straightens back up.
She greets me with a shy smile that makes my blood race in my veins.
I couldn't tell you the last time someone smiled at me the way she is, especially in my home, my sanctuary.
“Hey." I grin back at her, catching her gaze. Her spirit feels a bit brighter, and I hope that coming to my home with dinner cooking and some good music lifted her spirit the way I'd hoped. “I like this playful mood, Sarah,” I murmur quietly.
For a split second our eyes clash. My chest tightens and fills with an almost unbearable heat. I lock myself down swiftly, resisting the urge to lean down and press my lips to hers. God, I bet she's a pleasure to kiss.
“That's Sarah? The girl who’s been living with you? Ya ‘iilahi, look at all that hair!” Johnathan's deep booming voice sounds out next to us, causing Sarah to suddenly scream in fright and throw herself at me.
She doesn't even wince as I catch her with an arm around her waist and press her close to me. Her hands fly up to my chest, and I see she's holding a thin black box with a black bow, but her face is more important than any gift.
However, even in the miss of sudden chaos I tuck the knowledge that gift-giving might be her love language deep inside for later.
I feel a rumble in my chest as her curves mold against mine. She's so short her breasts press high on my abdomen, and my hands instinctively move away from her back, one cupping the side of her hip and the other pressing her head into my chest. She fits me perfectly.
I have a brief moment where I feel tears sting the back of my eyes because I've missed true intimacy with another person, and to have her here like this is almost as painful as it is exhilarating.
Something about the simplicity of her head pressing right up to my heartbeat shatters me a little on the inside; although, she doesn't seem to be aware of how affected I am.
I close my eyes briefly and turn my face away from the screen.
I boldly press my lips to the hair at the top of her head, yet she doesn't notice.
She's still gasping in fear, looking over with wide eyes to the monitor where Johnathan is laughing.
“Chill out scaredy cat-I don’t bite. Can’t say the same for Alexander, though,” Johnathan gives her a wink before being shoved over by his wife, Vanessa, who’s trying to force her way into the frame.