During the next hour and a half, needless to say, I got nothing done. After he left, I continued on in my trek to the stacks and even managed to collect a couple of books with surprisingly steady hands. I brought my books back up to my carrel and sat down with them still in my arms. My heart was beating frantically in my chest, and I wondered at the kind of power the man held over me.
Sooner than I thought, seven thirty came along. I hurriedly stuffed my books into my bag and went downstairs. Sure enough, he was waiting for me outside, leaning against one of the columns. I took the opportunity to stare at him. Now that I had allowed myself to think about him sexually, I was able to fully appreciate his beauty. As he leaned against the column, he allowed his head to rest back and his eyes to close. I saw the shadow of dark, full lashes, and shivered, imagining the heat locked inside the hidden indigo eyes. His shoulders, even in his relaxed pose, were broad and strong. If his tailored suit coat was any indication, his broad shoulders tapered into narrow hips. His legs were long, and even underneath the layer of clothing I could discern the power of his thighs. How I was going to manage to keep my hands off him this entire evening, I wasn't so sure. I took a deep breath and opened the door.
He lifted his head as soon as he heard the door opening, and smiled at me, the heat already in his eyes. I wondered if it had even left, or if he had been stewing in his own arousal just like I had.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yes, absolutely," I answered. In more ways than one...I thought. He offered his arm to me old-fashioned like. I took hold of his elbow, and we set off.
He took me to a restaurant in downtown Chicago, a place I couldn't afford to visit very often. The conversation flowed smoothly as ever over the delicious pasta and red wine. It was different than lunch the previous day. This time, it seemed as though we had both come to terms with the intense mutual attraction we had for the other (or at least I had come to terms with how I felt towards him) and we allowed that aspect of the evening to simmer just out of reach. Every so often, when one of us was taking a bite of pasta or a sip of wine, the other's eyes would linger on the lips just a little too long, and the gaze would turn smoldering. The fourth time this occurred, I began to wonder if he was teasing me on purpose. The louse, I thought with pleasure.
And then the conversation shifted.
"So I don't know if you remember it," he began, "but I wish to explain my behavior on the train yesterday morning."
I stared. I didn't think that rock was going to be turned over for a long while. I waited.
"I just... saw you sitting there, and I was... intrigued by you... to say the least. I'm very sorry if I frightened you."
"You didn't frighten me... much. I'd just never had someone look at me quite that way before... especially not on the train," I said, smiling at him to ease the tension written across his features. Crap, his eyes went to my mouth again, but this time they didn't stop there. By the time his eyes made it back to mine, the intensity was unfathomable. He heaved a deep sigh. It appeared as though he was trying to keep himself from pushing the table aside and attacking me.
"I've tried to control how I feel, but I can't... you are so beautiful," he said, his voice softening hoarsely at the last part of the sentence. I gulped. "I apologize again, for coming on too strong. I just wanted to see if I was misreading the signals that I picked up... the ones that passed between our eyes while our mouths were speaking about inane things. I like to think I'm pretty good at reading people, but I just can't be sure enough this time."
That was unexpected. I cleared my throat and pulled a lock of hair behind my ear. Looking into his eyes, I tried to discern any malicious intent there, any sign of an axe murderer lurking behind the genteel facade. However, unsurprisingly, I found nothing there but fear at being rejected, and... lust.
"You didn't misread me," I answered, my voice just above a whisper. He heard me perfectly, though, and smiled in relief.
After that, the conversation continued on two levels. I noticed that he was not as covert with his lustful looks, and his stares excited me beyond belief. In the end we were, as he said, carrying two conversations. The one going on vocally was about our childhood dreams and current goals, what kind of household we grew up in, what our parents did, how we spent our summers... things people talk about when getting to know one another. The conversation going on between us physically... that was something else entirely. The looks said, "I am imagining you naked right now." The accidental touches of our knees beneath the table said "I can't wait to feel your skin against mine." The way we teased each other while eating or drinking said "I know you wish my mouth was on you right now."
By the end of the meal, I was quivering with desire.
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He paid the check again, and took my hand as we left the restaurant. I was thrilled by the way my hand fit inside of his large one. The conversation stilled into companionable silence as we strolled through the busy streets of the city at night. I glanced at my wristwatch and was surprised to find that it was nearly eleven o'clock.
By unspoken agreement, we were headed towards the train station. The station, for being on such a busy street, was deserted. The train wasn't due for another ten minutes or so, but having lived in Chicago for a while now, I knew that was highly subjective. We talked about music for a while, discussing our likes and dislikes and what was wrong with the music played on the popular stations today. Suddenly, as I was laughing at something he had said, he pulled me forward by the hand, causing me to fall against his chest. My laughter was quelled immediately, snuffed out by his mouth on mine. It all happened so suddenly that I barely had time to react... mentally, that is.
As his lips skillfully played mine, I freed my hand from his and ran both up his shoulders and into his hair. Once my hands were secured in his locks, I was determined to press myself against him as closely as I could. As soon as the full length of his body came into contact with mine, all of the nerve endings on my skin flared. I felt myself being walked backwards, and suddenly I was against the brick wall of the station, his hands on either side of me. The stiff pole pressing into my stomach surprised me, and I let out a soft, involuntary moan. He reciprocated by deepening the kiss, using his tongue to coax open my mouth, and then engaging our tongues in a sensual dance. I let my hands slip from his hair, down his back, and beneath his suit jacket. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pulling him harder against me. My fingers traced the valley that ran down his muscular back. Now it was his turn to moan into my mouth. The sound electrified me. Suddenly, both of his hands found their way to my hips, and were pulling me roughly against him. His knee slid in between my legs, pushing my pussy against his hard thigh. His mouth broke contact with mine and left a trail of wet kisses along my jaw line and down the sensitive side of my neck. Somehow, he knew exactly where my erogenous zones were, and he used his warm mouth on them skillfully. Needless to say I was soaked and panting by the time he released me.
Sooner than I would have thought (or liked), the train rumbled into the station. With a final searing kiss, he pulled himself from me and me from the wall. My legs shook like jelly. He chuckled, and wrapped his arm tightly around my waist to hold me up and help me into the train.
"Sorry about that," he said softly into my ear as soon as we were seated. "I just couldn't help myself. You look so beautiful when you laugh." I could hear the smile in his voice.
"Trust me, you don't need to apologize for anything," I said shakily. He chuckled, and tightened his arm around me.
