My new apartment has always seemed big, spacious, and comfortable on the verge of luxurious. Until now.
As I show Paul inside, I can’t help comparing it to the desert palace of the O’Malley’s compound. The tiled swimming pools, the gyms and saunas; I’m sure there are Vegas resorts with less facilities than the O’Malleys have at home.
Coming back here with Paul, I feel like I’m seeing my modest little apartment through his eyes. It seems low-rent, cramped and poky.
But I hope Paul isn’t here to check out the rental unit. It’s me I want him to be looking at.
Chapter Three
Paul
I feel like I’ve entered her secret world, seeing her on her home turf. The furnishings, the decor, everything is soft, bright, and rounded. It’s her. Her personality to a ‘T’—whatever that means. All the tones are pale ice cream colors. It’s got the feeling of a playhouse, but one made for a grown-up. It’s so different from the showy glitz I’m used to at home. It’s relaxed and fun.
Being in her space makes me feel giddy, and she’s playful. Twirling. Sparkling.
All the times I’ve fantasized about her, and now I’m really here. She bounces like she’s proud of her apartment. I can see she wants to show it off to me. She can hardly keep still.
When my eyes stop on the flowers from last week, I feel guilty and uncomfortable. The top hat basket is so prominent on her bookshelf. I should take pleasure from seeing it here, seeing how much she appreciates the flowers. I should tell her that I’ve been her mystery man for years.
I can’t, though. Not yet. It’s too scary to think that she might see it as creepy. And, seeing the flowers in with the rest of her things, I can see the cost of them must be about a week’s wages for her. I want to help her in more ways. She deserves the best of everything.
That’s the rub. I want her so much, but she deserves the best of men to care for her. And that is definitely not me.
She tugs on my arm. “Let me show you around. Give you the tour.” She says, “Everything in here is girly. Especially me. So if you don’t like girly…”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to grab my attention.”
“I am.” Her smile makes my heart pound.
I follow her through the apartment, and I tell her, “Anytime you want my attention, you just have to raise a finger.” Her eyebrows rise. I move closer, fixing her eyes with mine. “And I like girly.”
“Do you like curves? Because I have plenty of those too…”
“Especially your curves,” I tell her. “I like your curves so much, it’s probably a crime.”
She makes a crinkly smile. “This dress hides a multitude of sins.”
“Really? I want to see all that you’re hiding. I want your curves and I want all of your sins.”
She presses her lips together. Draws them between her teeth. Her hands clasp at her throat and her elbows squeeze in front of her breasts.
“But a man like McQueen would probably be nearer your mark,” I say, not trusting this moment, scared Lucy is going to back away as soon as I get close.
JoJo’s husband is a Vegas dancer. A people person and a charmer in ways I’ve never been.
Lucy glances down at her feet. “No. McQueen is great. But he’s not my type of man.”
“Oh?” I cock my head to one side. “What’s your type, then?”
Then she takes a little step toward me. “Quieter.” Her eyes flick up to mine. “Dependable.” She tugs on the lapel of my suit coat. “I like a man who’s attentive. Remembers birthdays. Things like that.”
“Birthdays like yours?”
She shrugs. Her smile is so fucking adorable. And her gorgeous tits are heaving. So close. “I guess I couldn’t love a man who didn’t remember my birthday.”
“Does it change, or is it the eighteenth of April every year?”
Like the snap of a spring, she jumps into my arms. Fastens her lips on mine for a deep, perfect kiss. Presses herself against me. Hungry. Hot. Her arms wrap around my neck.
I could stay in this kiss forever. Nothing matters more than the feeling of her waist in my hands. Her breasts pressed against me. The grip of her thighs. I stroke her face and I love the warm silkiness of her cheek.
Her bright eyes look innocently into mine. “Am I going to have to fight you off, Paul?”
“Do you want to fight me off?”
“Only if I can be sure that I’ll lose the fight.”
“What do you think?”
She sighs, “You’re very big.” Her breathy voice as she says that makes me even bigger. Her eyes widen as she notices. “Oh, my. You are big.”
“So,” I cup her face in my hand, “will you fight me off?”