Wanting Winter(9)

My eyes go wide. “You live here?” I look at the building like it’s going to change. “What floor?”

“Third. You?”

“Second. I guess this is a small world.” I step out. He soon joins me, leaning against my car and pulling my body close to him.

“Least it's not far to go when we have sleepovers.” He waggles his eyebrows at me, and I hit his chest, stepping back before walking towards the ten-floor building.

“Already planning sleepovers?” We walk up the stairs to my floor.

“I'm already planning a lot of stuff in my head with you.” I turn around and I notice his eyes are on my ass. He looks up smirking at me.

“Oh really?” I turn around, looking down at him as I'm on the higher step.

“Yes really.” He takes a step up so he's not as small.

“What things have you got planned to do to me. I mean with me?” I smirk at him.

He goes on my step on the stairs, his hands wrapping around my middle, pulling me in, slowly gliding towards my ass, lifting me so my legs have to wrap around his waist. He takes the last few stairs until he pins me against the wall, pushing his body against me. I am really starting to like him doing that.

“I am going to do so many things to you, although some things I will have to keep as a fantasy.” He starts kissing from my jaw to my neck.

“What fantasies? I'm quite open-minded,” I breathe.

“Maybe one day I will tell you.” His lips go to the top of my breast and he bites down. I scream out into the vacant stairway, echoing around the walls. He sucks hard, biting me again before pulling away. His forehead goes to mine, his eyes closing. “Let's go.”

“Okay,” I whisper. His fingers entwine with mine and I open the door that leads to the hall of a few apartments until we get to mine. Unlocking the door, I sigh in relief that my place is spotless, minus my coffee cup from this morning. Letting him in, I lock the door behind me and watch him walking around my home, viewing my stuff, looking at my photos on the wall.

“These your parents?” he asks.

Walking to where he is, I smile when I see the picture of my parents holding one another, smiling at the camera. “Yeah, that’s them.”

“They look so happy.”

“They are. Growing up, I told myself I wanted what they have. They have so much love for another, even after all these years; they are mad about each other.”

“That’s great. I'm sure you will get that.” He takes hold of my hand again. “Tell me about the rest of your pictures.”

I point to the ones of me when I was younger in high school. He looks surprised when he notices I was a cheerleader—which causes me to laugh—saying I'm too nice to be a cheerleader.

His eyes go dark when he sees a picture of me and my ex. “Who’s that?”

“That’s my ex-boyfriend, David.” I step away from the wall.

“Why is he an ex?” His eyes are still on the picture.

“He broke it off with me, and I found out a week or so later that he was with someone else.” I sit on the couch, bringing my legs under me.

“Did you love him?” He faces me. “He must have meant a lot if you have the picture up on the wall.”

“It's only a reminder that men can hurt you. At the time, I thought I did love him. He was my first boyfriend. It hurt, but I see now I didn’t.”

He comes over and sits next to me. “He is an idiot for breaking up with you, but I'm happy he did as I would hate to think that you were taken.” He smiles at me. “Not all men are like him. I would never hurt you,” he says looking straight into my eyes.

Please don’t hurt me.

I clear my throat. “Yeah, if I were taken, you would have to be with someone else. Not like you don’t have any admirers.” I smile at him.

“Admirers?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh come on. You must have seen how girls look at you. Even my friend thinks you’re hot.” I notice his body tenses a little.

“Men notice you,” he says back.

“Men see me as the campus challenge because I won't open my legs to anyone; they see me as something to win and not as a person.”

“Men are dicks.”

I burst out laughing. “You're talking about yourself then.”

He shrugs. “I can be—I have been—but when I like a girl, and I mean really like them, I have to get to know them; it has to be more than physical—more than sex.”

“How many times have you felt that about a girl?” I bite my lip.

“About—” He looks up at the ceiling. “One.” He looks back at me smiling.

“Me?” I ask.

“Just you. I have never had any interest in being with a girl before. Until recently, I just enjoyed fucking women.”

I know its past tense, but knowing he slept with other women gives me this funny feeling I can't put my finger on.

He used to be a player.

“You see me as more than a fuck?”

“I do. Don’t get me wrong, I want to fuck you so bad that my dick is yelling out to you, but fuck me, just being around you is intoxicating.” His eyes pierce mine.

“What if I want you to fuck me though?” My body starts to heat up, the atmosphere changing.