Consumed by a Stranger (Craved Series #4) Page 6

  So there was no doubt in my mind that I was right where I wanted to be. Being a single bachelor seemed like such a chore compared to being here with the only woman I wanted to see and knowing we were going to leave together.

  It wasn’t long before the waitress arrived with our main dishes. My steak was as big as my head and Audrey's duck was arranged artfully in a way I was sure she would appreciate.

  "So how did you get into graphic design?" I asked when the waitress left. I was eager to hear her talk more about herself, the sound of her voice being one of the things I’d missed most when we were apart.

  "I was always into drawing," she said. "For as long as I can remember I was constantly doodling. And my parents were really encouraging. They would put all my pictures on the fridge and the walls." She pushed some blond hair out of her eyes. "I think it was the permanence of art that I liked."

  I nodded and reached for the pepper.

  "But I love that while it's permanent, our perception of it changes as we change." She picked up her silverware. "It's like that whole thing about how you can't step in the same river twice, ya know? I’m not sure you can look at the same painting twice either."

  "That makes sense."

  "And I know it for sure because sometimes I'll make something I really love and then the next day I'll think it's absolute garbage."

  I laughed. "I completely understand. I felt like that constantly when I was writing my book."

  "Oh right."

  "So you've always loved it?"

  She nodded and sank her knife into her duck breast. "Unfortunately, it used to have a terrible impact on my grades. I was always drawing when I should've been paying attention to my teachers."

  I laughed. "At least you had an excuse."

  "But I can still remember where I was the first day I learned there was such a thing as art school, that there was a place where other people like me went so they could do art classes all day."

  "That must've been exciting."

  "It was. Of course, then I realized there was no money to be made doing that- or at least there wouldn’t be until I struggled for several years and even then there would be no guarantees. So I switched to graphic design because I figured I could earn a better living."

  "And no regrets?"

  She shook her head. "Not really. I mean, the reason I like art is because it can change the way people feel, like music can. And the art I do still does that.” She dragged a piece of duck through some jus. “None of my stuff will ever be in a museum or anything but the things I design for people play a big part in their everyday life."

  "Of course."

  "That's how I justify it anyway. Sorry. Am I boring you?"

  "Not at all."

  "And you don't think I'm a terrible sellout for going down the graphic design road so I could chase the almighty dollar?"

  "Absolutely not," I said. "Not if it was the right choice for you."

  She shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I get the impression that people think it's a lesser art form or that I'm a lesser artist for being influenced by capitalism."

  "That's ridiculous," I said.

  "I agree. I mean, there's more to life than sketching naked people and stranger’s hands. A girl's gotta eat, ya know?"

  "Of course," I said. "Personally, I don’t think there's anything wrong with wanting to earn a good living.”

  “Clearly,” she said, taking a bite.

  “And in my experience, the people who think it’s wrong to pursue financial success are unlikely to ever have it."

  She nodded as she chewed.

  "My Dad was never a wealthy man, for example," I said, cutting my perfectly cooked steak. "He thought wanting more money was a greedy way to be, that all it does is corrupt people. And it’s impossible to believe that and attract it into your life."

  "Is that why you wanted to be a doctor?"

  "For the money?"

  She flicked her hair behind her shoulder. "You wouldn’t be the first."

  "The money wasn't a turn off, but no, that’s not how I initially got interested in medicine."

  "I'm listening."

  "When I was in junior high, my Mom got Breast Cancer."

  Audrey's face dropped. "That's awful," she said, setting down her fork.

  "It was for her, yeah, but I was fascinated by the whole thing because of the way she shielded me at the time."

  "I don't understand."

  "Well, instead of telling me what the risks were, she focused on all the things the doctors were doing to make her better."

  “I see.”

  "She painted them as heroes."

  "And she's okay now?"

  I nodded. "Fortunately, she's been in remission ever since."

  Her eyes smiled. "That's wonderful, Jack."

  "She's a real fighter my Mom, a formidable woman. You'd like her."

  "I'm sure I would," she said. "But you aren't a cancer specialist, right? So what made you go a different route?"

  "I guess after the experience with my Mom, I wanted to help people feel better, but I wanted to go into a line of medicine where I wouldn't have to make them sick first in order to do that."

  She squinted at me.

  "If that makes sense."

  "It does."

  "Though hopefully chemo will be a thing of the past soon enough."

  "Well, for what it’s worth, from the little I've seen of your bedside manner, I think you did the right thing becoming a doctor. I mean, you've obviously managed to help a lot of people already."

  "Yes," I said. "I've been very fortunate."

  "Do you think you'll ever practice again?"

  "I do,” I said. “Deep down I know I'll get back to it eventually because I loved it for so many reasons. I just don't know when."

  "Perhaps when the time is right?"

  "Yeah," I said, wondering how Audrey would feel about me starting a practice in Seattle. Or if she wanted to live somewhere else. I guess as long as we stuck to the West Coast, I could be pretty flexible about moving back stateside. It wasn't so bad here. And if she was here, there was nowhere I would rather be.

  But none of that mattered now. Everything would work out in time.

  Just as long as she was falling for me as hard as I was falling for her.

  Chapter 13: Audrey

  His whole demeanor changed when he talked about medicine.

  I mean, I didn't have a great track record for reading people or anything but it seemed pretty obvious to me that he missed being a doctor… almost to the point that it was a sore subject to mention that he wasn't currently doing it.

  Naturally, I wondered if his Mom getting sick was part of the reason he was so good with women. After all, there was something different about the way he was with me that made him stand out from the other guys I'd dated in the past.

  I guess the best way to describe it would be to say that he seemed very aware of me. Like I never got the feeling that he wasn't paying attention or that I had to repeat myself to be heard.

  And it felt good to be shown that kind of respect without having to earn it or beg for it. It was just freely given- his attentiveness, his consideration.

  Maybe it was only because things were so new between us. Surely we were both on our best behavior. I certainly was.

  Of course, the longer we stayed together, the more likely it was that he would regress to the beer drinking, self-scratching mode that seemed prewired in most men. And once he knew I was his, I doubt he would try so hard to make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world with every other sentence.

  But maybe that was okay. Maybe relationships were supposed to progress that way. I was no expert.

  Besides, the thought of having that level of familiarity with Jack wasn't off putting. I liked the idea of sharing a space with him, of running into him at home, of being able to laugh and talk with him every day.

  In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I hated thinking about not having that. H
owever, chances were our relationship would run its course and he would lose interest in me.

  But the thought of that- or the thought that he might become interested in someone else- filled me with a sense of panic that was completely inappropriate considering how little time we’d spent together up to that point.

  Though how could I not crave more opportunities to have his arms around me now that I knew what it was like?

  They were strong and muscular and being surrounded by them felt like the safest thing in the world. I felt small there. In a good way. Like nothing could touch me, like I didn't have to worry about a thing.

  And I got the same feeling again when he stood behind me on the Space Needle's viewing deck while we looked past the safety bars at the city below.

  With his head over my shoulder, I leaned into his chest, closing my eyes for a second in the cool breeze so I could savor the feeling of having him wrapped around me.

  "It's beautiful, isn't it?" he asked.

  "Yeah," I said, opening my eyes and taking a deep breath. "It's a good city."

  "I have to admit this view is a bit special. I'd even go so far as to say it's better than the one from the top of Jin's place."

  I smiled at the memory of the first time we had sex. I could still remember the way it felt to see him over me, wanting me. I could remember the lust in his eyes being as intense as the fire in my belly, the way he literally filled me up so much I felt a completeness I’d only ever known with him.

  "If I remember correctly," I said. "There were some pretty good sights to be seen that night."

  He laughed. "I wish I could show you the video sometime."

  "What?!" I spun around so fast I almost lost my balance, though I could never have fallen with the way his arms were locked around me. "What video?"

  "The video I have in my mind of how you looked that night."

  "In your mind?"

  "Yeah."

  "So you were just deliberately trying to get a rise out of me?"

  He smiled and looked over his shoulder but there was no one else around. "My favorite part is the close up shot of the way your lips fall apart when I push inside you."

  "Is that so?" I said, cocking my head at him.

  "Yeah," he said. "I watch that part over and over."

  I pursed my lips and wondered how many times he'd thought of them since we met. "What other parts do you like to watch?" I asked, dropping my voice to a whisper.

  "I like the look in your eyes when I whip it out."

  I laughed.

  "I like the fact that you want it just as bad as I want you."

  I smiled. "It's encouraging, is it?"

  "More like incredibly hot."

  I swallowed. Being with Jack in that way was a whole new experience for my mind and body.

  With guys in the past, I felt like some kind of means to an end, like the fact that I had all the right parts made me convenient while the fact that my head was attached to my body was just a coincidence.

  But with Jack, it felt like I always wanted it to feel, like no part of my body was neglected when it was in his capable hands. He seemed equally excited about every single inch of my flesh. Okay, maybe not equally, but close.

  The other thing that made sleeping with him different was that he actually seemed interested in my pleasure.

  In the past, the overriding feeling I had when men were fucking me was that when it came to getting mine, I was on my own. They never seemed to have the time, the patience, or the stamina for me to have an orgasm.

  And I realize that I'm the dumbass who kept sleeping with them, but I think that’s only because I actually started to believe that sex was supposed to be a lonely experience.

  The worst was afterwards when I would lie in bed knowing something wasn't right, feeling alone and naked even when there was a man beside me. It wasn't a positive feeling at all, and it certainly didn't do any favors for my self-esteem.

  Of course, on some level I suspected that it wasn't meant to be like that. When I was growing up, adults always insisted that sex was meant to bring people together and foster intimacy, not generate feelings of disappointment and isolation.

  But what could I do?

  I didn't know how to have sex any other way, and I didn't know how I was supposed to find a sexual partner that I could have fulfilling sex with without trying a few of them on for size.

  Unfortunately, in recent years, every man had been more disappointing than the last, and I was starting to think I would just have to accept average sex as some kind of curse. Like I was being punished for something I did in a past life.

  But sex with Jack had blown that theory out of the water. I wasn't being punished. I was just fucking boys instead of men.

  And now that I’d been with a real man, not only had I discovered that men could be effective multi-taskers, but I learned that sex didn’t always have to be followed by quiet desperation.

  On the contrary, sleeping with Jack made me feel more whole and relaxed than anything else I'd ever tried.

  I rested my hand in the middle of his chest and looked at it for a second before sliding it up to meet my other hand behind his neck.

  "What?" he asked, looking down at me as little creases sprang up around his eyes.

  I raised my eyebrows. "You want to go check out the view from my place?"

  He smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."

  Chapter 14: Jack

  I could barely concentrate on the road as I made my way back to Audrey's place. Between the thought of what was coming and her hands around my waist, I was absolutely driven to distraction.

  I also noticed that her hands were more relaxed around me than the first time she rode with me, as if she was getting accustomed to being my pillion. And I could feel my chest swelling with the satisfaction of knowing she was more comfortable with me than ever.

  Maybe she was falling for me after all.

  Or at least ready to trust me again after the incident in Thailand.

  The tension between us on the way up to her floor was tangible, and I knew once I put my hands on her, there would be no stopping me.

  "Thanks again for a lovely dinner, Jack," she said, keeping her distance on the other side of the elevator.

  "Thanks for being such good company," I said, admiring the way her black pants hugged her curves.

  "Oh you haven't seen anything yet."

  I smiled at the mischief in her eyes, feeling just as backed up as when I saw her earlier.

  She took her time making her way down the hallway.

  "Hurry up," I said. "I'm in a rush."

  "For what?"

  "You know for what," I said, smacking her ass and thinking it must’ve been the stuff of renaissance painter’s wet dreams.

  She stepped inside and moved to close the door behind me, but I beat her to it, swinging it shut with my foot as I slipped my hands around her waist and pulled her to me.

  Her lips fell against mine like she'd been finding them for years, and as she dragged the tip of her tongue along the roof of my mouth, I felt myself growing against her, my jealous dick straining in my pants.

  "Tell me," she breathed, sliding a cupped hand over my cock as if she could sense its eagerness. "Do you have a video of my lips around your dick from the morning after the massage?"

  I furrowed my brow at her. "I thought I did, but I must have recorded some football over it by accident."

  She raised her eyebrows. "Maybe we should make another one then," she said, sinking her fingers into the bulge between us.

  "Would you like me to be the director?" I asked.

  Without releasing me from her grip, she took a step back and shook her head. "No," she said. "I don't think you'll be able to think clearly enough for that."

  I clenched my jaw.

  "And I don't think you'll have enough blood in your brain to do any acting either once I get started. So why don't you leave the thinking to me and just make yourself comfortable."

  I
was almost too anxious to speak. "Where?"

  She cocked her head towards the door to her right, and I pushed it open. I could've been seventeen again for how excited I was to be in her bedroom for the first time.