"Nice," Amber said, taking in brown-orange walls, the mahogany furniture. All was neat and tidy, unlived in, almost; she wasn't sure if that was because he'd just moved in, or because he was used to spending most of his life at work. Hopefully she’d find out, with time. A quick glance forward revealed a huge flat screen and what she was must be the rest of a complete entertainment system. The scattered paintings were abstract, generic, inoffensive.
It was as if Eric had taken the image he wanted for himself and projected it over his apartment.
Amber dipped her head, grinning. She knew, thankfully, better than to believe this illusion. She'd gotten glimpses of other Erics: how he caved when scared, how his eyes flashed when pissed. How hard he could hold her, overcome with passion.
Those Erics were so much more fascinating than any idealized version.
"Nice," Amber repeated her earlier compliment. She twirled to face him, looking down because of her heels; his expression was so smug, like a cat surveying its domain from the highest perch. She took hold of his coat lapels, pulling him in closer. From here she could smell the sweat they’d worked up to earlier, and the memory made her smile. "But I'm here for the man, not the apartment."
If the desire she’d felt in the restaurant had been a roaring fire, it was now an ember, making her want him beside her. With her. And he finally could be, in the privacy of his home. She wouldn’t hold back. Amber tipped her head, sighing with a breath that went straight to her abdomen, and brushed her face against his, her mouth skirting the edge of his lips. His stubble tickled, made her shiver. “God,” she whispered, and it had to be the wine that had loosened her tongue so, “you have no idea how much I like you.”
no subject
It was as if Eric had taken the image he wanted for himself and projected it over his apartment.
Amber dipped her head, grinning. She knew, thankfully, better than to believe this illusion. She'd gotten glimpses of other Erics: how he caved when scared, how his eyes flashed when pissed. How hard he could hold her, overcome with passion.
Those Erics were so much more fascinating than any idealized version.
"Nice," Amber repeated her earlier compliment. She twirled to face him, looking down because of her heels; his expression was so smug, like a cat surveying its domain from the highest perch. She took hold of his coat lapels, pulling him in closer. From here she could smell the sweat they’d worked up to earlier, and the memory made her smile. "But I'm here for the man, not the apartment."
If the desire she’d felt in the restaurant had been a roaring fire, it was now an ember, making her want him beside her. With her. And he finally could be, in the privacy of his home. She wouldn’t hold back. Amber tipped her head, sighing with a breath that went straight to her abdomen, and brushed her face against his, her mouth skirting the edge of his lips. His stubble tickled, made her shiver. “God,” she whispered, and it had to be the wine that had loosened her tongue so, “you have no idea how much I like you.”