climbed out of her car and jetted for her apartment.
* * * *
Randy set the empty beer bottle on the bar counter and cursed to himself. He’d come down here tonight with the intent of finding a woman to fill his evening with. Heck, he’d even had an offer from a very willing blonde. And for a moment, he’d thought about it. But then he remembered Francesca had blonde hair also and his mind replayed her soft locks brushing against his chest. He didn’t want the blonde woman in his bed. Dare he say it? He wanted Francesca, again.
Standing up forcefully, he kicked the stool out from behind him, laid a bill on the counter, and made his way toward the front of the bar. She was supposed to be out of his system. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her anymore. But ever since he’d had one more frickin’ taste of her, he craved another. He had a suspicion that even if they hooked up again, it wouldn’t be enough. It never was.
He was once certain he was going to marry that woman, but she’d wanted a rich man. Now he was that rich man. But he couldn’t tell her that. Might be simpler if he did, but he’d be a fool.
Randy shoved the front door open and made his way across the parking lot to the old red pick-up. After getting his keys from his pocket, he climbed in. The damn truck smelled like her. She’d only had it a week, yet everything from the seat belt to the fabric on the doors smelled like her and that perfume she wore.
Just as he started the car, his cellphone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and saw it was her.
“What?” he answered.
“Not a good time?” she asked.
“Kinda.” Randy leaned his head back against the head rest.
“Oh, sorry. I wanted to say thank you for the calendar. It was a nice touch.”
“Hopefully you’ll remember to take care of the car and change the oil every once in a while,” he snapped. He wasn’t really sure why he was directing so much anger at her, he just knew his emotions were out of whack.
“I will. I’m sorry I caught you at a bad time. I’ll let you go.”
He could hear the sadness in her tone. She hadn’t called just to thank him. He was certain she wouldn’t be calling him unless she had another reason.
“I’m sorry. I’m just having a rough evening,” he said.
“You could come over.”
“Really?” No, no he did not want to go over there. Her car was fixed. It was a clean break.
“Yeah, I had something I wanted to ask you anyway.”
“Sure, okay. I will be over in a bit.” He hung up.
* * * *
Francesca ran through her apartment, tossing anything that was out of place in a closet or drawer. Why had she invited him over? All she had planned to do was ask him a question over the phone, but then he sounded so angry. Was he mad at her? What had she done?
Before she had time to think about it further, the buzzer sounded, letting her know she had a guest at the gate. She hit a button by her front door to allow him in. She glanced over the apartment one last time. It looked tidy. She wasn’t a housekeeper, that was for sure, but the place was acceptable. Not anywhere as neat as his place though.
Knock knock.
He was there. She straightened her shirt, cleared her throat, and opened the door with a smile. Holy hell, he looked hot. He still had a brooding expression on that made him look damn sexy. He wore a tight black t-shirt and a pair of light jeans that hugged all the right places. She licked her lips, and before she had time to think, he was inside, kicking her door shut and yanking her into his arms. His mouth pressed against hers and she immediately opened.
The kiss was filled with anger and need. She wrapped her arms around his neck and jumped up, her legs hugging his waist. Two firm hands gripped her ass as he carried her to the couch. Slowly he sat, placing her in a straddling position. He was hard and pressing right into her center. She couldn’t wait to feel his thick cock inside her. He was just the right size that he
Dan Bigley, Debra McKinney