Bad Intentions - Too Bad It’s Fake

“Do you have any more of those eclairs?” Noah asked when it was all done and dusted.

“Um, yeah, a couple,” I said, going to the fridge.

Part of me wondered what exactly he had planned. He probably just liked them and wanted more. Though there was still a chance, small as it was, that this was a pretense to get back into my pants. A notion to which I was in no way opposed, my pussy actually tightening at the thought.

“Would you like some wine with them?” I asked, serving the eclairs up onto two plates.

“Red or white?” he asked because, of course, he did.

“Red, I think,” I said, going back to the fridge to look.

I liked wine of a flavor level but didn’t know much about it in terms of the fancy talk of the silver bucket spitting crowd. I just bought what tasted good and what I could afford.

Pouring out two glasses of wine, I took the glasses and the plated eclairs over to the table in two trips to avoid any unfortunate incidences. A trick I picked up while working as a server in high school. I always liked being around food. Even if I wasn’t the one making it. I was tempted to lay out silverware too, but decided it would be overkill.

“Do you think I could stay the night?” Noah asked out of nowhere as we had our eclairs and wine.

“Um, okay,” I said, a bit confused.

He had never actually asked to stay over before he just did, the last two times at least, and apparently not that long always being gone when I woke up.

“I just don’t want to assume anything,” he said, showing more humility than he had before.

“It’s fine, really,” I said.

“I was thinking,” he said.

“Always dangerous.”

“That’s what Leo said. Anyway, I was thinking I don’t want to just assume things and instead of going to the gala for a one-night event, how about we make a long weekend of it.”

“O-okay,” I said, surprised but also pleased by his change of heart. This was unexpected and pleasing.

Chapter Sixteen

Noah

We finished our sweet treat and without a word, Emma took the dishes over to the sink and headed towards the bedroom. Not needing to be told once, I got up and followed her.

“Can you undo me?” she asked, turning her back to me.

“Sure,” I said.

I went over and unzipped the back of the black party dress she had worn for the catering job. I wasn’t sure about her wearing heels with it considering how long she had to be standing. Though if it bothered her, she didn’t say anything.

“Thanks,” Emma said, stepping away and taking down the straps of the dress.

“No problem,” I said, putting my hands in my pockets.

Taking the dress down and off, Emma started on her bra. She seemed to be having some trouble which wasn’t surprising really.

“May I?” I asked, stepping up.

“Sure,” she said, taking her hands away from the clasp.

In one swift, smooth motion, I had her bra unclasped and off. Putting it aside, I gently reached around and gently massaged her tits.

“Sorry,” I said, stepping away, worried that I didn’t ask permission.

“It’s okay. It felt good,” she said casually, going over to the dresser.

Slipping into an oversized sweatshirt, Emma went and got into one side of the bed, leaving me a good deal of room. Something of an impressive feat considering how small the bed was. Taking this as my cue, I stripped down to my boxers and slid into the bed beside her, careful not to touch her, even by accident. It wasn’t that I suddenly found her disgusting. Quite the opposite, which was exactly the problem.

I didn’t know where we stood, and I didn’t want to take advantage of the situation — not again. I might have asked to stay the night but hadn’t really thought it through before I did so. I was trying to let her know that I was serious without necessarily needing to say it. It wasn’t until I was there that I realized that it might have been a mistake.

“Come on, I don’t bite,” Emma said, patting the bed beside her.

“Seriously?” I asked, making sure.

“Of course, come here,” she said, lifting her arm to make room.

Accepting the invitation, I moved over to her, our bodies pressing softly together. I could feel her warmth through her sweatshirt and suddenly felt very calm and comfortable. I put my head on her shoulder and, to my surprise, she gently stroked my hair. It could have been because she didn’t know what else to do or possibly because it was instinct, but it didn’t feel like that. I didn’t know people, let alone women, very well, but what I felt coming from her at that moment was pure affection.

“You did really well today,” I said, trying to be encouraging.