And when I see who it is on the other side of the door, I press a hand to my chest in disbelief.
twelve
atticus
It’s some mind warfare bullshit, ain’t it?
You know what I fuckin’hate? That whole psychological thing where you push away the thing you want because you’re scared it don’t want you back.
It’s some mind warfare bullshit, ain’t it?
I sat in my truck for thirty-four minutes, watching the window of Goldie’s apartment. She took a shower; I’m certain, since the bathroom light was on for a portion of the time.
I told myself to drive home.
I told myself that the way I left things—telling her she was no mistake but we wouldn’t be doing anything again—was smart.
Why the fuck am I getting all twisted up in a woman who has her own demons to battle? Who is, by all intents and purposes, too fuckin’ good for me?
I gotzero intentionof telling Goldie that I kinda got a thing for her, no plans of telling her that I liked seeing her sit where my sister used to sit, talking to my Mom like she’s my old lady, and sleeping next to her like we’re together. I liked it all a whole helluva lot.
Yet here the fuck I am, beating the hell outta her front door.
When she opens it up in a satin robe barely fuckin’ tied at her hip, her hair wet and uncombed, I swear to god I charge her. I toss her over my shoulder and kick the door shut behind me. She squeals as she clings to my back, taking handfuls of my sweatshirt in her fists.
“Atticus!” she says, her tone light, not at all subtextually telling me no. “What… what are you doing?”
I charge down the hallway and toss her onto her bed. She’s breathless, staring up at me, and the jostling has caused her robe to open, exposing one smooth handful of breast. I lick my lips, fighting the urge to seal my mouth around her hot little nipple.
“If you want me to leave, tell me to go.”
Her mouth, agape from shock, seals closed. Pushing up to her elbows, she says, “go turn off the stove. I was going to eat some of your mom’s soup.”
After all the weird shit she said about eating this weekend, knowing she was about to eat does some shit to me. I feel… unexpectedly relieved.
My dick ain’t relieved, though.
Turning off the stove, I see the bowl she set out, a spoon next to it catching the overhead kitchen light. On a napkin next to the bowl is a slice of my Mom’s sourdough, butter smeared across. Next to that, a chocolate chip cookie. A strange kind of happiness worms its way through me, but I’m back in the bedroom with a different meal on my mind.
“Open the curtains,” I tell her, motioning to the large window swallowing the wall behind her bed.
Her hair drips onto the silk robe, making her covered breast nearly visible, the peak stiff behind the fabric. “That’s downtown Oakcreek out there. People are still out.”
“It’s Monday night,” I say, knowing there will only be a sprinkling of people, especially with this shitty weather. “Open the curtains.”
I wouldn’t make her do it if she didn’t want to, and the smile that curls her lips tells me she does. The rings clink into one another as she tugs the gray fabric to one side, looping it behind the curtain tie back. She’s on the second floor of a two-story building, allowing the street lamps to toss a gentle glow into her room. Knocking the lightswitch with my knuckle, the room goes dark, the outside light flooding the bed like a piece of fuckin’ art.
And there she is.
Untied Robe now completely open, body bare, andminefor the taking.
“Face the window, hold the headboard, and bend over.”
The way she does it without arguing gets me so hard I gotta fight stroking myself over my pants. Because I fuckin’ want her, but something tells me that she ain’t ready for me. Not yet. Maybe never. But for now, she’s lettingmehaveher,and I ain’t missing this meal.
“Hands up on the glass,” I growl, kneeing onto the bed behind her.
Dropping my chin onto the top of her shoulder, I bring my mouth to her ear and growl, “don’t move your hands until I say.”