Sex And Writing|| 18+ [{Completed}]

12

I walked into my apartment 30 minutes after walking out of Reese's office. With a heavy heart and a new contract in hand. A weird sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach at the sight of him.

On one hand, we weren't being torn apart from each other for another 6 months. So, that was good news and I had to look on the bright side, right? But on the other hand, I had to look deep into his hypnotic eyes knowing what happened to him. The tragedy that had unfolded on the women in his life. I visualized their interactions, how happy he must have been, once upon a time. And now? I didn't want to believe I could look at him differently. Or feel anything other than what I felt for him. But ultimately---- I did and not for what he would think. 

Before--I didn't know his pain; his demons. But now? Now I knew what made him run to the bar at 10:00 pm every night. Now I knew what drove him to present himself the way he did. 

C.J. shuffled about in the kitchen. Placing a fresh batch of blueberries, peaches, and apples into the refrigerator. Giving me a glimpse of my now fully stocked fridge. 

"You went to the store?" I was surprised to see him look so domesticated. So--caring and thoughtful?

I set down my copy of our new contract onto the counter, watching him in amazement. No one had ever done a simple thing like this for me. Not even Neil or any other boyfriend before him. 

"You needed it," he said simply, placing a gallon of milk into the fridge and closed it. He looked back at me. 

"I--uh--thanks! I didn't expect you to do that for me. I could have gone and done it." I smiled halfheartedly. 

"It was just a block away," he said nonchalantly taking a step forward, pushing his hands into his pockets. Almost nervously eyeing the paper on the counter as if it would grow legs and walk away. 

"We've got our new deadline." I breathed out in a rush. Butterflies swarmed the lining of my stomach like vicious little animals gnawing at my nerves. 

"And," he asked in a dangerously low voice. Sending shivers down my spine and wetness to my panties. Why did simple words send my body into a frenzy? What was it about this man? 

"We've got six months. I owe 20 plus pages a week, turning them in every Friday. Ugh." I ran a hand down my face, feeling the full effect of my deadline.

The weight of the stress mounted on my shoulders, pulling them into my ears. It wasn't a big deadline, but it was enough. Enough to make my stomach churn in uneasiness. What if I got too distracted and didn't get it done? What if I failed? 

His hands fell onto my shoulders, forcing a sigh between my lips. "You'll be fine," he said gruffly, staring into my eyes with reassurance. His hands working my shoulders in a soothing massage, kneading my stress away like dough. 

"I know--I just---" I stuttered stupidly, tossing my hands about. 

"In two weeks, with multiple distractions, you managed to edit 80 pages. You. Will. Be. Fine." He gave small shakes with every word. 

A smile pulled at my lips with his encouragement. We had gone from him grunting responses to full-on game time encouragement. Talk about a positive personality development, which I hoped wouldn't go away. Especially after I spilled the beans on what I knew. He could digress into who he was.

"Well--I think my multiple distractions were the reasons I was able to do so much." I raised a suggestive brow, watching as a sly grin stretched across his lips. 

"Ahh--you like my distractions." He whispered pushing himself into me. Connecting our bodies in a warm embrace held together by thick glue. 

His hands came up to cup my cheeks, forcing his lips closer to mine. Leaving his a millimeter from my own, as his warm breaths poured across my cheeks. Our eyes stared into each others longingly as if he were seeing right into my soul.