I top the night off with dinner at a fancy restaurant on a rooftop with a view of Los Angeles. When we get back to my place I’m torn between desperate need for T.J. and a perverse, almost angry determination to not have sex with her. I’m pissed she’s keeping me at arms length. I’m mad at myself that I was so attracted to her from the moment she walked in my place. I’m angry she’s so beautiful, talented, funny. How could I not fall for her.
I don’t like not being in control. I don’t like that she has the upper hand. I especially don’t like that she’s not as smitten with me as I am with her. I don’t like it one bit.
You know what? Fuck her.
Except she peels off her top to reveal a red bra with a deep plunge between the breasts and a tiny bow.
She shimmies out of her skirt and shows off skimpy red panties barely held together with side ties that will come apart with one sharp tug.
I cross the distance between us in three stalking strides and yank her to me. “You’re an evil woman.”
Her laugh is delicious and penetrates me like a knife peeling me open.
“I can resist you if I want.”
She reaches behind her and unclasps her bra, but it doesn’t fall because it’s trapped between us. My breath catches. She laughs harder. I kiss her upper chest. Her laughter dies and I feel pain and satisfaction.
Her skin is cream and flowers, warmth, softness and stars, energy and need.
“Baby, why? Why do you do this to me?”
“What do you want me to do?”
I sigh and step away.
“How about a beer?” she asks. Then she walks to the refrigerator, looks in, and bends over in a very exaggerated way, showing off her ass through the semi-see-through back panel of the panties.
I put my hand over my chest so my racing heart doesn’t kill me. My feet walk without my permission until I’m right behind her and I’ve lined up my groin to her fabulous backside.
“You just love it,” I growl. “That you so… fucking…” I can’t even finish without taking a deep breath, “have so much power over me.”
“Maybe…” she says in a sing-song teasing voice.
I step back. “Get the damn beer.”
I walk away and sit on the couch. She turns toward me and her bra falls all the way off.
“Damn,” I groan. I pat my thigh. “Come here, baby.”
She slinks toward me, holding two beers, and goes to straddle me.
“No,” I say firmly. I pull her down on my lap so she’s sitting sidesaddle, her legs across both of mine. I scoot her until she’s up against my body. I take the beers from her and put them down on the table.
T.J. leans against me. “You feel good.”
I graze my knuckles over the high swells of her perfect breasts. T.J. picks up a beer and hands it to me. She goes to pick up the other one and I stop her.
“We’ll share one,” I say. I hand her a bottle and she takes a sip. There’s an intimacy, knowing her mouth is on the place my lips have just been.
“Want to watch a movie?” I ask.
She laughs. “I’m sitting on your lap, almost naked, and you want to watch a movie?”
She wiggles seductively and I still her hips.
“We’re more than this,” I say. “We’re more than sex.”
“Yeah. We’re sex and bandmates.”
Inwardly I sigh. “And friends.”
“Okay,” she says. “Movie it is. But wild monkey-gorilla sex afterward. We only have a few nights left.”
I smile. “If you insist. But just know, I feel soooo used.”
She rolls her eyes. “Poor Mr. Pretty Pants. It’s hard being you.”
“It will be.”