Come Undone (The Cityscape 1)
“Ah finally, a smile,” he said, reappearing. “Come,” he motioned as he walked purposefully toward the couch. I crossed the room but before I could sit, he touched my chin again, lifting it to him. “This might sting a little,” he said, showing me a towel of ice. I nodded up at him as he carefully applied the ice to my cheek, looking between my eyes and the towel. I inhaled sharply as he adjusted it. “Sorry,” he murmured. “It will help though.” After a moment, he said, “You must be beat.” I scrunched my face at him. “Shit. Bad choice of words.”
I laughed lightly and then winced. “I never asked if you were all right. Did he hurt you?”
He looked skeptical. “No, I’m fine.”
“A regular Clark Kent. My superhero,” I said, smiling as best I could.
“Hardly,” he scoffed, but I noticed his cheeks redden slightly. “Well, maybe. Do you know how hard it is to chase and subdue someone in dress shoes?” I think I laughed, but I felt like I’d been sucker punched. Chase . . . and subdue . . . . The words echoed in my head. Lust reared within me at the thought of David acting out those verbs on me, only when he caught me, things would go somewhat differently than they had tonight.
“Here, hold this for a minute,” he said, jolting me from my thoughts. He disappeared once more and returned with two Tylenols and a glass of water. I handed over the towel and gratefully took the medicine, eager for the pain to subside. “Let’s get you into bed,” he said, and my head snapped up. He rolled his eyes at me. “I have a guest room you can stay in.”
“Of course, I know.” A shaky laugh escaped my lips. He showed me to an empty room that was equally as nice but much less inventive. It was furnished with a bed, nightstand and dresser, but it lacked the warmth of the rest of the apartment.
“There’s the bathroom, there,” he said, pointing to a door at the other side of the room. I’ll get you something comfortable to sleep in.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary, I can sleep in this,” I said, but he was already out the door.
I found my way to the bathroom to freshen up. After splashing my face with warm water, I examined the damage. He was right, the cut was minimal, and most of the blood had washed away. But I could already see the beginnings a bruise forming around it. I quickly tugged my fingers through my hair, carefully avoiding the tender bump on the back of my head. I smudged some dirt from my collarbone, but there was nothing I could do about the shadows under my eyes. I looked more suitable for a night at the trailer park than as a guest in David’s pristine home. He appeared in the doorway of the bathroom and appraised my reflection.
“I’m a mess,” I said with a pout.
“Yes,” he agreed, and I stuck my bottom lip out further. “Somehow you still look exquisite.” It was my turn to roll my eyes. “This is all I have,” he said, handing me a folded t-shirt and boxers. “They might be a little big,” he said, stifling a laugh, “but it’s better than nothing.”
I raised my eyebrow at him, and it was his turn to blush. “Well, not - it’s not better . . . Never mind.”
I thanked him and took the clothing. “Can I have some more water?” I asked.
“Sure.”
Soreness descended, and I moved slowly as I changed. I furtively whiffed the shirt, which smelled of fresh laundry and David. When I came out, he was setting a glass of water on the nightstand.
“How’s this for exquisite?” I joked.
“Why do you keep doing that? Rolling your eyes?” he asked.
“Because it’s ridiculous. Although I don’t doubt that some girls buy into it.”
“You do look exquisite.” I looked down at myself and burst into laughter.
He tilted his head and smiled dangerously, in such a way that would get even the Virgin Mary into trouble. My laugh vanished as he looked me up and down with bloodthirsty eyes, like he might leap across the room and devour me. I chewed my bottom lip as my insides flurried. Standing there in a huge t-shirt and shorts rolled three times, I felt less than desirable. But under his perusal, my body’s reaction was beyond my control.
“One day I will tell you exactly how exquisite you look right now,” he promised.
I clenched my jaw to abate my physical reaction. His eyes lingered too long, and that empty heaviness returned between my thighs. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “You’re all set. I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours – I’ll have to wake you,” he warned.
I nodded. “That’s why I’m here, right?” I said, shrugging. A roguish grin was his only response. I climbed into the bed and got under the covers.
“Goodnight,” he said, reaching for the lights.
“David,” I said suddenly, sitting up.
“Hmm?”
I swallowed hard. “Did anything happen between you and Gretchen?”
“What do you mean?”
“At the MCA event. D-did something happen?”
I jumped at his burst of robust laughter. When he saw that I wasn’t laughing, he stopped and his face fell. “Seriously?”
I nodded earnestly.
He stalked slowly to the bed and bent so we were face to face. My mouth fell slightly, and I snapped it shut.
“She’s not really my type,” he said, his voice low and sensual. “For one, I prefer brunettes. Brunettes with big, green eyes and,” he stopped, seeming to have lost his train of thought. He reached up and picked something from my cheek. “And very long lashes,” he said, holding one on the tip of his finger.
I was now breathing through my nose to prevent any incidence of panting. For a moment, I saw myself through his eyes.
“Besides,” he said, straightening up and flicking it off. “She’s not tough enough for me.” He winked. With that, he strode away, shut off the lights, and pulled the door closed behind him.
My heart thumped in his wake, his touch lingering on my skin. I fell back into the plush bed. He didn’t want Gretchen. The mixture of his touch, his smell, his words intoxicated me. It took everything I had not to drown in the thought of him, not to touch my throbbing self through his clothing. I forced myself to concentrate on the night’s events; so much had happened.
I wondered if Mark’s threats were legitimate or if he’d been bluffing. Would he really be out right away? How was it that David had appeared in that moment? What would have happened if he hadn’t? I curled up into a ball while this last question hung in my head.
~
“Olivia.”
I moaned in response. It was quiet for a moment and I shifted, my eyes opening to darkness.
“Hey,” David whispered.
“Hi,” I whispered back, rubbing my eyes sleepily, struggling to see in the night.
“Do you know where you are?” he asked.
I was quiet for a minute. “Yes,” I said. “On the moon.”
I saw his outline, which was becoming clearer, stiffen. I laughed softly. “Don’t worry David, I’m fine.”
“Oh,” h
e said. “All right, just checking.”
“Stay,” I said before I could stop myself. I curled up into a smaller ball.
He hesitated a moment before the door closed, and I heard his bare feet cross the room. The bed dipped and after another pause, he climbed all the way on. He settled against the pillows as far away as he could get, and I wondered if it was respectfulness or if, at the stroke of midnight, our new arrangement had gone into effect. But either way, he was there, and it was dark, and somehow, none of that mattered.
“Do you normally work so late?” he asked after some time.
“No. I fell asleep at the office,” I said. “I can’t believe that I saw you. Well, that you saw me, I guess.”
“You mean, almost ran you down.”
“Right. Where were you going?”
“I was also working late, except that I was actually doing work. Your office is on my way home,” he stated simply.
“Sort of,” I mused, going over the possible routes in my head.
“No, it is,” he said. “Where were you going? Don’t you live in the opposite direction?”
I turned to face him now, even though I couldn’t see him in the dark. “I don’t know. At first I was running to the ‘L’ and then I just turned.” I was quiet for a moment, reliving the moments before he had caught me. “Hm.”
“What?”
“I was trying to get to . . . Jackson? I think, yes . . . I was,” I paused, going through the route, I took a right turn and . . . . “I was trying to get to you.” The admission surprised me. I hadn’t realized it until now. I knew that David’s office was on Jackson. And I didn’t feel embarrassed by it, although I knew I should. “It doesn’t make any sense,” I said to myself. “What would make me think you’d be there at that time? Or that you’d care after this afternoon?” Again, I tried working it out in my head. A beat passed. And then another before I noticed his silence. “You think I’m a stalker, don’t you?”
“No,” I could hear a smile in the word. “I’m thinking.”
“What about?”
“Everything.”
I understood. It was almost kismet, if I believed in that sort of thing.
“I just can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if - ”