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Chapter seven

Anna

I s this happening right now? Christopher Wolfe is easy on the eyes. Hell, you could be blind and still know that the man is fine because he exudes confidence and machismo like they’re a cologne he applies each morning. Forty-five minutes of running my hands through his hair and smelling his actual cologne, something earthy and warm, has me hoping his barber never comes back to town so I can do it all again next month. His throaty sighs and involuntary moans while I shampooed him made my knees weak. If we start talking, dating, whatever this is, could he be the guy that I finally go all the way with ?

With my station sufficiently tidy, I collect my bag from the cupboard beneath it and stroll past reception, holding my breath and hoping to go unnoticed.

“Sneaking off early, Anna?”

Amrita and Jenny stand shoulder to shoulder, arms crossed like a pair of stern parents at the top of a dark staircase. A scene I know well. Sneaking out with Ashlyn was almost never worth the punishment.

“Is it early?” I feign complete shock at the time despite the clock the size of a car tire hanging on the wall above our heads.

“We’re only teasing.” They relax their stance, Jenny collapsing into her chair.

“But who is he ?” Amrita whispers like he might hear her through the plate glass windows.

I follow her gaze. Chris stands on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, exuding all the confidence of a man with a fresh cut. I drag my eyes away from the window and purposely take a step to my right so their view is blocked.

“He’s a friend. His barber is closed for a while, so I helped him out. His hair was getting pretty crazy.” I wave my hands around my head in a wild circular motion.

“Yeah…crazy.” Jenny blinks slowly, “He looked awful when he came in. All that dark tousled- ”

“You guys done? You’re ruining the whole sneaking part of my departure.”

Jenny smirks and looks around, “Who said that? Anna, is that you?” Her eyes skip over me like I’m invisible.

I wiggle my fingers over my shoulder, exiting the salon into the bustle of mid-afternoon with the warmth of the sun on my face.

“I’m ready for my arduous journey.”

He turns toward my voice and grins. The left side of his mouth curves up ever so slightly higher than the right when his smile is big.

“At your service.” He plays along.

I wave my key fob over the reader next to the lobby door which is no more than five steps from the salon doors.

“You like living here? Seems a bit…”

“Close?” I suggest.

He nods.

“Yeah, it works well. I get to go home for lunch, take late clients without having to commute at night. No driving basically.”

“No driving? That’s half the fun of the day.” He scrunches his face in faux judgment. I know his Jeep is his baby. My car, on the other hand, is used maybe twice a week .

I press the elevator button, figuring I’ll give my quads a break since I have Chris’s protection from unwanted bachelor advances. Speaking of bachelors, my mind is desperately trying to figure out why Chris is walking me upstairs. He wants my number, and I’m going to give it to him, but what’s he going to do with it? When the elevator doors slide open, Chris’s hot hand finds my lower back and he ushers me inside with subtle pressure. As soon as I’ve cleared the doors, that hand slides over to my hip. Instinctually, I know he wants me to turn around. I hesitate. What the hell will happen when I do? I gather my fortitude and spin around. Chris is right there, close enough that I can see the dark stray hairs that rest on his tee. I brush them off the fabric, relishing the firmness of his built shoulders beneath my fingers, the way the soft shirt clings to his sloping traps. In a swift motion, he clasps my hands in his, bringing them down between us. My knuckles graze his firm abs as he stares me down with warm chocolatey eyes. For all the times I wished the elevator went faster to escape the company of various male occupants, this is a ride that ends too soon. As the doors slide open, he adjusts his grip so we’re simply holding hands. He hesitates, unsure of which way to go.

“It’s three-zero-four,” I say .

He leads, reading the numbers fixed beside each door beneath cylindrical sconces that cast a warm glow in the hall. I try to match his long strides, repositioning my bag on my shoulder when it slips. Of course, my door is the furthest away, the last one on the right.

Is this it?

Will we fall inside and fumble out of our clothes and get it over with?

What the hell underwear did I put on this morning?

Will it be good?

I examine the way his shorts cling to his unfairly round ass as he walks. Yeah, it’ll be good.

Reaching the door, he releases me. My palms are sweating. A response to increasing nerves and the sheer heat that Chris seems to produce and as I look for my keys my bag slips from my shoulder, thudding onto the carpet. I bend to retrieve it but his hands encircle my waist.

“My keys are in there.”

He guides me closer, stopping a hair’s breadth before our torsos meet.

“You don’t need them right now,” he rasps, staring hungrily at my parted lips.

I fall the rest of the way, allowing our hips to meet for the first time. The solid wall of man doesn’t budge. He brushes his full lips against mine, the sensation drawing an audible moan from my throat. He smiles against my mouth. Rising onto my toes in a vain attempt to match his six feet, I clutch at the place where his t-shirt meets his skin. And then he really kisses me and I gasp before getting myself together and trying to return everything he’s giving. The weight he puts behind the kiss would probably knock me over if not for the way I’m adhered to him, hip to hip, breasts to chest. As I relax into the kiss, his hot tongue explores the shape of my lips. Tension is coiling inside my belly and there’s the unmistakable swell of Chris’s arousal. A harsh click startles me, abruptly ending a kiss that’s quickly becoming more than a simple liplock.

Someone clears their throat. “Anna.”

Oh, great. Tanner. Impeccable timing as always.

He rolls his eyes at us, locks his door, and marches away, opting to take the stairs rather than wait for the elevator.

Chris stares at the door he disappeared through.

“Ugh,” I groan, turning back and burying my face in Chris’s chest.

Chris chuckles, squeezing me against him, the vibration of his laughter against my ear.

“I hate that guy. He’s one of the persistent men I mentioned.”

I reluctantly leave the safety of his chest to look up at him and I swear I see a muscle in his jaw contract .

“Looks like a boy to me.”

Is he jealous? The idea of Chris being jealous over another guy asking me out makes me want to dance around my condo.

I stoop to retrieve my bag. “Let me get my keys so we can continue that in privacy.”

The key scrapes the lock when I hear him suck a breath of air between his teeth. “Anna. I’d love to, but…”

But? But, what? Can he smell the virgin on me? My desperation? Am I a bad kisser?

“If I follow you in there…”

My cheeks glow at the possibility. Why can’t he finish a damn sentence? He’s using that placating tone people use when they are worried that someone is going to react badly.

“The timing here isn’t great.”

My keys dig into my palm. “Oh? Do you…have somewhere to be?”

“No. Ah, shit.” He starts to run his hand through his hair then stops, not wanting to mess up my work which is cute as hell and only makes me want him to come in with me more.

“I’ve got to go, okay? Thanks for the haircut.”

I wince at his abrupt tone. Then he walks back the way we came and I’m standing there like an idiot .

“I thought you wanted my number?” I call, just to embarrass myself a little more.

But he’s already disappeared through the stairwell door. Instead of dancing around when I get inside, I flop onto my unmade bed and let out a piercing scream of sheer frustration into my pillow.