Page 75
Story: Claiming Cari
Thirty-six
Patrick
I push it to the absolute last possible minute. For the first time since I started pulling regular shifts at Gilroy’s, I’m not looking forward to getting behind the bar. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. Kill another bottle of wine. Camp out on the couch with her beside me, snuggled in close enough to smell her. Touch her if I want to.
The problem with what I want is that’s not all I want. And if I let down my guard, I’m going to take it. I’ve been able to resist so far, but my control is a tenuous thing when it comes to Cari. The more time we spend alone, the harder it’s going to be for me to keep my hands off her.
I’m still not sure how I’m managing to keep my dick in my pants so far, especially after my little lapse in judgment before dinner. Feeling her pussy pressed against me. My cock hard and straining. Her knees tight around my hips. Soft tits, the hard beads of her nipples pushed against my chest... I almost lost it. Right then and fucking there, I almost lost it.
“This place is really beautiful, Patrick,” she says, taking a look around. Despite the praise, she looks wistful. Almost sad.
“But you don’t like it,” I say, following her gaze as she casts it around the apartment.
“It’s not that.” She keeps looking around. It’s like she’s searching for something. “It’s great... just different.” She finally looks at me again. “Everything’s different.”
I want to tell her she’s wrong. Not everything is different. Not the way I feel about her. Not the things I want from her. Want to do to her.
“I have something for you,” I say, draining my glass before standing to collect our plates.
“For me?” she says, brow furrowed.
“Yup, for you.” I walk into the kitchen to deposit the plates into the sink. I’ll clean up later. Right now, this is more important. Opening one of the upper cabinets, I pull out a thin box, wrapped in sky blue paper with a silver ribbon tied around it. Tess wrapped it for me months ago. She’s surprisingly good at things like that.
On impulse, I grab the bottle of wine off the table and head over to the couch where she’s sitting, legs drawn up, feet tucked under her ass. I sit next to her and top off her glass before refilling my own. I set the box on the couch between us.
“What’s this?” she says, looking at the box.
“It’s a present,” I tell her, leaning in to set the box in her lap. “A birthday present.”
She looks confused, her brow scrunched up, mouth twisted slightly. “For who?”
I smile, arching a brow at her. “For you.”
She looks at the box in her lap. “You bought me a birthday present?” she says, shaking my head before looking up at me. “My birthday isn’t for another two months.”
“No,” I say. “Your birthday was ten months ago.”
She thinks about what I’m saying. “Your birthday was four month, ago and I didn’t get you anything.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, cutting her a quick look. “I bought it months before...” you left. I stop myself from saying too much and pick up my wine. Sitting back against the cushions, I gesture with my glass. “Open it.”
She hesitates, her fingers resting lightly on the box for a second before untying the ribbon and pulling the paper off.
Opening the box, her eyes widen. “Patrick.” She gasps my name, her fingers flying to her mouth before her wide eyes meet mine. “It’s beautiful.” Reaching into the box she pulls the necklace free, holding it up so she can watch it sparkle in the light. Suspended from a long, platinum chain is a paint palette charm as big as my thumb, studded with different colored gems—rubies and sapphires. Emeralds and amethysts. She doesn’t know any of that. It could be silver-plate and rhinestones, and she’d have reacted the same way. “Where did you find it?”
I don’t want to tell her that I had it made by a friend of Miranda’s, an artisan jeweler downtown. If I tell her, she’ll tell me I spent too much on it. “Do you like it?” I say instead, enjoying the moment. That I made her happy.
“I love it,” she says, looking up at me. “Thank you, Patrick.”
I take the necklace from her, opening the clasp. Leaning in, I fasten it around her neck, bringing my mouth to within a breath of hers. “You’re welcome,” I whisper, the words brushing my lips against the corner of her mouth as I pull back. Looking down, I reach a hand between us, settling the pendant between her breasts. “It looks beautiful on you.”
She blushes, covering my hand with her own. “Now I really wish I’d gotten you something.”
We sit there for a long moment, neither of us saying anything, looking at each other.
I need to leave.
Now.
Patrick
I push it to the absolute last possible minute. For the first time since I started pulling regular shifts at Gilroy’s, I’m not looking forward to getting behind the bar. I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here. Kill another bottle of wine. Camp out on the couch with her beside me, snuggled in close enough to smell her. Touch her if I want to.
The problem with what I want is that’s not all I want. And if I let down my guard, I’m going to take it. I’ve been able to resist so far, but my control is a tenuous thing when it comes to Cari. The more time we spend alone, the harder it’s going to be for me to keep my hands off her.
I’m still not sure how I’m managing to keep my dick in my pants so far, especially after my little lapse in judgment before dinner. Feeling her pussy pressed against me. My cock hard and straining. Her knees tight around my hips. Soft tits, the hard beads of her nipples pushed against my chest... I almost lost it. Right then and fucking there, I almost lost it.
“This place is really beautiful, Patrick,” she says, taking a look around. Despite the praise, she looks wistful. Almost sad.
“But you don’t like it,” I say, following her gaze as she casts it around the apartment.
“It’s not that.” She keeps looking around. It’s like she’s searching for something. “It’s great... just different.” She finally looks at me again. “Everything’s different.”
I want to tell her she’s wrong. Not everything is different. Not the way I feel about her. Not the things I want from her. Want to do to her.
“I have something for you,” I say, draining my glass before standing to collect our plates.
“For me?” she says, brow furrowed.
“Yup, for you.” I walk into the kitchen to deposit the plates into the sink. I’ll clean up later. Right now, this is more important. Opening one of the upper cabinets, I pull out a thin box, wrapped in sky blue paper with a silver ribbon tied around it. Tess wrapped it for me months ago. She’s surprisingly good at things like that.
On impulse, I grab the bottle of wine off the table and head over to the couch where she’s sitting, legs drawn up, feet tucked under her ass. I sit next to her and top off her glass before refilling my own. I set the box on the couch between us.
“What’s this?” she says, looking at the box.
“It’s a present,” I tell her, leaning in to set the box in her lap. “A birthday present.”
She looks confused, her brow scrunched up, mouth twisted slightly. “For who?”
I smile, arching a brow at her. “For you.”
She looks at the box in her lap. “You bought me a birthday present?” she says, shaking my head before looking up at me. “My birthday isn’t for another two months.”
“No,” I say. “Your birthday was ten months ago.”
She thinks about what I’m saying. “Your birthday was four month, ago and I didn’t get you anything.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, cutting her a quick look. “I bought it months before...” you left. I stop myself from saying too much and pick up my wine. Sitting back against the cushions, I gesture with my glass. “Open it.”
She hesitates, her fingers resting lightly on the box for a second before untying the ribbon and pulling the paper off.
Opening the box, her eyes widen. “Patrick.” She gasps my name, her fingers flying to her mouth before her wide eyes meet mine. “It’s beautiful.” Reaching into the box she pulls the necklace free, holding it up so she can watch it sparkle in the light. Suspended from a long, platinum chain is a paint palette charm as big as my thumb, studded with different colored gems—rubies and sapphires. Emeralds and amethysts. She doesn’t know any of that. It could be silver-plate and rhinestones, and she’d have reacted the same way. “Where did you find it?”
I don’t want to tell her that I had it made by a friend of Miranda’s, an artisan jeweler downtown. If I tell her, she’ll tell me I spent too much on it. “Do you like it?” I say instead, enjoying the moment. That I made her happy.
“I love it,” she says, looking up at me. “Thank you, Patrick.”
I take the necklace from her, opening the clasp. Leaning in, I fasten it around her neck, bringing my mouth to within a breath of hers. “You’re welcome,” I whisper, the words brushing my lips against the corner of her mouth as I pull back. Looking down, I reach a hand between us, settling the pendant between her breasts. “It looks beautiful on you.”
She blushes, covering my hand with her own. “Now I really wish I’d gotten you something.”
We sit there for a long moment, neither of us saying anything, looking at each other.
I need to leave.
Now.
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