Chapter 13
Paul:
This night has been a roller coaster. First, I came to work thinking Abby hated me and wasn’t going to show. Following that was the emotional stress of trying to apologize to her when she was still clearly very upset with me. And then the night took an upturn when we got stuck in the parking garage elevator. And I rode that high all the way to Abby’s dorm room. Of course, I wasn’t thinking clearly. If I had been, I would have never agreed to go home with her. But I was thinking with my dick, and my dick wanted very much to be inside Abby tonight. To be fair, she gives the most amazing head, and my mind was still kind of reeling from the experience of being inside her mouth a short time ago.
The ride up to Abby’s floor, with her friend in the elevator with us, gave me plenty of time to run through all the reasons why this was a bad idea. Sure, I absolutely 100 percent wanted to be with Abby. I even decided somewhere along the way tonight that I could get over how she did me dirty three years ago. But that doesn’t mean we need to rush back into bed together. We need to be sure about this. I need to be sure about this before things get serious again.
But then, against my brain’s warnings, my body is on hers again, my lips on her mouth, my hands on her perfect ass. And I am lost to my libido. Until she opens her dorm room door and finds one of her friends in a puddle of tears.
Clearly, the other girl is going through something serious. I know the second I see her there that our plans for the night are cancelled. And I’d be a real shit person if I expected her to still get hot and heavy with me when her friend is so obviously in need of support right now.
“I’ll text you,” I tell Abby and plant a soft—and very chaste—kiss on her cheek. Then I do the respectable thing: I tuck my erection into my waistband, and I head home.
I don’t text Abby right away when I get home. I don’t know what to say. Besides, she’s probably busy being a good friend at the moment and doesn’t need me interrupting her. Instead, I take a long, hot shower, picturing Abby’s hands on my body, her mouth on my cock, while I rub one out under the warm spray.
When I crawl into bed later that night and prepare to go to sleep, I find myself reaching for my phone, pulling up my text messages, Typing a new message to Abby.
Me: Goodnight, beautiful.
Exactly the same message I used to send her every night when we were dating—well, every night that we weren’t sleeping in the same bed, that is.
I set my phone back on my nightstand and turn off the lamp next to my bed. I’m left feeling like the last three years have erased themselves in a matter of days. I’m still so wrapped up in Abby, but with that comes a resurgence of the heartbreak I felt when she betrayed me. My phone buzzes a few minutes later, but I don’t look at the screen. I know it’s a response from Abby, but if I look at it, the fine line I’m walking between attraction and masochism will vanish. Instead, I roll over, turning my back to the nightstand in a stubborn act of symbolism, and throw my pillow over my head.
~
By the time I see Abby at work again the next day, I’ve got a game plan in mind. It took me half the night to realize that, yes, I do want to rekindle things with Abby and the other half to figure out how to do that without fanning the flames out of control with my lingering bitterness over her cheating me way back when. We need to start fresh. No more making out in elevators or dorm hallways. No more trying to sneak off to find a secluded place to get hot and heavy. No more letting my dick dictate—dicktate?—my actions.
The last time we dated, we fell into bed together before we were even officially a couple. Sure, the sex was fucking amazing, but we didn’t take the time to develop that emotional aspect that is so crucial to a successful relationship. This time, I want to know her before I know her. And I intend to tell her that as soon as we leave the security office for rounds and no one else is within earshot.
Except when she finally shows up—fifteen minutes late for her shift—one look at her is all it takes to wipe away any willpower I have about taking things slow. She’s a walking wet dream in a skintight maroon mini skirt paired with a sheer black blouse over a skimpy maroon bra. She anchored the look with thigh-high black velvet stiletto boots. I don’t even care that it’s a super ridiculous pair of shoes for tromping around campus. In fact, I want her to wear these damn shoes all the time from here on out.
Black and red—my favorite colors. Did she remember? Is that why she dressed this way, to get a rise out of me—both literally and figuratively? Because it’s working.
I pick my tongue up off the floor while she clocks in and have myself mostly in check by the time she joins me at the door leading to the hallway. We take the elevator down, but this time, neither of us makes a move toward the other. We stand a perfectly respectable distance from one another and travel to the ground floor in complete silence, mostly because of the cameras inside the carriage. An issue we don’t have at the dorms or in the parking garage. I guess they care more about what goes on in the Student Services elevator than other places. Or ran out of budget for cameras everywhere. I don’t know, and frankly, I’m glad there weren’t cameras to capture our escapades in the other conveyances yesterday. We’d both have been fired for sure if John had gotten a look at what we did while stuck in the garage elevator.
As soon as we step outside, Abby turns to me. “Got any plans after work tonight?” Her look is one of pure seduction.
I shake my head, not trusting my voice not to crack under the sexual tension.
“Wanna hang out?”
Do I fucking ever. “Sure.”
She smiles brightly and turns toward the parking garage. I follow like a lost puppy dog, trailing along behind her like I’m on an invisible leash. Truth be told, I feel like I am.
I don’t know how I manage to make it through our entire shift without having a mental breakdown. The four hours we spend roving our corner of campus feels like four years instead. Each minute stretches longer the closer we get to eight p.m. Like we’re stuck in some sort of weird time warp. We’re back in the security office ten minutes before the end of our shift, and I watch the clock like a hawk until we can officially clock out. I practically leap to the terminal when the clock over the door hits exactly eight o’clock, and Abby and I are downstairs and headed for my car in what must be record time.
“Do you have anywhere specific in mind?” I ask her once we’re in the car and buckled. I start the engine while I wait for her answer.
“I was thinking your place.”
I nod and try to affect an outward calm I don’t actually feel. I can’t deny, the idea of bringing Abby back to my place is an exciting one. My dick is already twitching with interest at the implication of what could happen there. But my brain is firing off warning signals telling me I need to slow down before I get hurt again.
I’ve never been a caution-to-the-wind type, but here I am, speeding toward my place like it’s the best idea in the world.