On the second floor, he leads me down a long hallway, until we reach two closed doors…next to each other. He’s frowning again, staring blindly at the doors and frowning.
“You twist the knob to open the door.”
That did not go over well. He levels me with a narrow eyed glare and I’m immediately hit with regret. In my defense, I’ve been through a lot tonight. Sometimes my mouth does its own thing.
“Sorry, I’m tired.”
“The master bedroom is under repair and these two are the only bedrooms with electricity.”
“God’s sake, Vaughn. I don’t care if you have a cage hidden in a dirt pit behind that door. My brain is deep-fried and my soul is on life support. All I want to do is get horizontal and sleep for a thousand years.”
I push open the door to bedroom number one. A king size mattress with no sheets sits on the floor, the windows are bare, and a standing lamp offers the only light.
“You take my bedroom tonight. I’ll fix this tomorrow.”
“Absolutely not.” I drag my limp body to the mattress and plop down. “Do you have an extra set of sheets and a pillow?” The look of sheer desperation on my face convinces him not to argue. He acquiesces with a short nod.
“These bedrooms share a bathroom in the middle,” he states. You would think he’s giving me the nuclear launch codes with the tone he’s using. “Make sure you lock both doors when you’re in there.”
Minutes later he walks back into my bedroom, carrying towels, a stack of bed linens, a down comforter, and a pillow. After placing them on the mattress next to where I’m sitting, he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his tuxedo pants and pauses.
“Can I get you anything else?” He looks like he stepped out of the pages of GQ, none the worse for wear after what we’ve been through tonight. I’ll admit I’m slightly annoyed by this.
His eyes meet mine. There’s something lurking in the dark depths of those eyes that I can’t quite put my finger on. I shake my head and he turns to leave.
“Hey.” Pausing, he looks over his shoulder. “Thank you for everything…really.” Raising his hand, he stalls the rest of my speech. After which, he exits.
Chapter Five
Bang Bang Bang
I bolt upright in bed. I’m a light sleeper, always have been. So light that I need earplugs, a sleep mask, and blackout curtains to remain asleep. And to fall asleep? That’s a whole other story. As in, it is unlikely to occur unless I get a little help from one of my mechanical boyfriends. This body runs on high RPMs. It takes a village (of electric man parts) to help me relax.
Momentarily confused and desperate to get my bearings, I push my black satin eye mask up my forehead. The sunlight coming through the bare window blinds me. Permanently, I’m almost certain. And then I realize where I am. Groan.
Bang Bang Bang
One glance at my cellphone tells me two things. One: it’s way too early in the morning for construction workers to have arrived. And two: I only got two hours of sleep.
Said banging gets louder. Mumbling obscenities under my breath, I jump out of bed, jam on my slippers, and stomp out of my bedroom in search of the source of my misery. I step over tarps and painting supplies, walk under an open ladder––my luck’s shite anyway so what difference does it make––and descend the stairs in a hurry.
AC/DC’s Back in Black at seven in the morning? You have got to be kidding me.
Recognizing that the music’s coming from the living room, I head in that direction. Angry stomping, I whip around the corner and my feet skid to a stop.
Whoa.
I blink repeatedly to make sure the hot piece standing twelve feet away with his back to me isn’t a figment of my sex starved imagination. Naked from the waist up, he’s pounding away at the sheetrock. Tall, broad shouldered, back muscles rippling every time he swings the sledgehammer against the far wall. His Levis are worn and I mean, really worn, not to mention in danger of falling off any minute now. Fingers crossed they do with the next swing. Fingers crossed. They’re hanging so low over the pronounced muscles of his bubble butt that…
Wait…is he wearing underwear?
Nope. I can see crack. Butt cleavage. Yep, I am definitely staring at butt cleavage. My fascination with his butt cleavage produces a suspicious heat south of my waist. This is what happens when you’ve been without the feel of another human being for far, far too long. I knew I should’ve taken my friend, Justin, up on his offer to bone me into the next century. Once again, bad judgment on my part.
To say that my sex life is suffering a dry spell is akin to calling the Sahara a sandbox. It’s been years. And by the looks of it, abstinence yawns before me for many more to come. But after the fiasco that was the last time––the sex so bad I actually got angry while in the midst of it, that’s how utterly unsatisfying it was––abstinence seems the only reasonable way to go. Besides, I’ve got my boyz to get me through.