As I tried to covertly stare at him, he murmured, "Now you're giving me creeps, Ruth. If you wanna know something, why don't you just ask?"
Accepting the glass he offered, I blurt out the question that had been nagging me all this time.
"You took a bus today," I say suspiciously.
"So I did. I tend to do that sometimes, try a variation, spice things up.... Send the car for servicing, and all that."
Sipping from his glass, he eyed me with amusement and asked, "something else I did to offend you?"
My scowl deepened for no apparent reason, and laughter danced in his eyes. Maybe it was a late reaction of having him in the personal space of my apartment, or maybe I was just incredibly nervous, but I was suddenly feeling belligerent.
Like, all that restless energy was letting itself out in the form of irritation. It was distracting me from the real reason I was here. And I welcomed it. Better distracted and angry than nervous, I decided.
"Nice place," I commented dourly, to which he replied, "hope you can find it in you to forgive me for that."
When I narrowed my eyes at him, he placed his glass on the counter and walked up to me with his that smile.
Involuntarily, I licked my lips, and his eyes dropped to them, making my stern attitude melt away.
My breathe hitched from panic as I realised what was about to happen, even as I tried to push it away. I wanted this, I told myself.
I had come all the way here, found Caleb attractive, and I was sufficiently brave. That should be enough, right?
I wanted to be one of those people who lived vicariously. People who did random hook-ups and never thought twice about it. I was 28 afterall, old enough to make a decision like this.
I wanted to be adventurous. Live like people my age did, do wild things that I have never done before. This was my chance, and I will make the most of it, damnit.
And whatever panic and reservations I felt? It'll just have to go. I've lived like a nun long enough, thanks to those.
As if to show myself how adventurous I could get, I nearly smashed my lips to his.
Slipping off stool, I went to wrap my arms around him, but he pulled back so he was no longer in my kissing-range.
I briefly felt a humiliating sting of rejection until he said, "let's get this out of the harm's way, shall we?"
Reaching for the wine glass in my hand, he carefully placed it on the counter.
In a daze I asked, "harm?"
Eying my shirt where the wine had slotched and spilled a bit during my attack, he murmured, "Mhm.. Thought you wanted less accidents and more satisfactions, Ms. Brooke."
With that, he bent and picked up right where we left off, his lips desperately moving over mine.
I moaned, and wrapped myself around him and he straightened, lifting me up, and nudged my lips with his tongue.
Even as his tongue moved seductively onto mine and I wrapped my legs around his waist, my mind kept running, not letting me give into the kiss completely.
His eyes were closed as his tongue tasted my mouth, and I felt him move as he started walking towards the bedrooms.
I pulled my mouth away, arching my neck to make sure we didn't trip and fall off something.
Because falling off from this height will freaking hurt, I briefly thought as his lips travelled to my neck, sucking on a spot below my ear.
My body felt like it was on fire, making me clutch onto him desperately and moan, even as my mind wandered on the most inconsequential things imaginable.
I found myself taking in the bright and cosy interior of his room, and I briefly imagined how high I would bounce if he dropped me on the plush mattress, even as the shivers ran down my spine at the feel of his teeth nipping at my ear.
As he nudged the door close, my fingers pulled at his hair, directing his mouth back to mine.
He slid me down his body, making me stand shakily as he ran his hands up my back. He pulled off my hair clip making my hairs tumble down my back, and I frowned.
I hated hairs tickling my neck, I thought and immediately went to pull away from him, to wrap my hairs back up in irritation.
He raised his eyebrow at me, studying my face for a moment, and my eyes widened, realising I was getting distracted from the job at hand again.
I quickly caught hold of his shirt and pulled him back to my lips, sliding off his blazer and pressing myself to him.
His eyes fluttered shut again, and he pulled me flush against him, letting me feel how much he needed me.
I gulped hard, my fingers shaking with nerves as I unbuttoned his shirt. His hand clawed at the neck of my shirt, pushing it aside to run his lips on my shoulder.
Before I could catch my breathe, he lowered me onto the bed, crawling on top of me as he licked over to my throat.
Goose bumps raised on my skin and he caught my hands placing them on either side of my head as his lips travelled all the way over my arm right up to our interlinked hands.
Even though there was a thin barrier of my shirt in between, his lips seemed to leave a warm trail over my skin making me squirm.
I eyed an off-white canopy over the high bed post, finding it odd to be in his bedroom. Come to think of it, the room was way too, um, non-caleb.
It was bright, airy and there was next to no black things here that he generally possessed. The bay windows with light gray borders and yellow walls actually seemed cosy and lively.
This room looked like sunlight dared to enter here, which seemed like an unforgivable offence for the rest of the house.
So, he didn't carry me to his bedroom, I thought, wondering what to make of it.
In my inspection of the room, I realised a minute too late that Caleb was no longer kissing me anywhere.
Infact, he was poised on all fours over me, carefully not touching me as he studied my face with narrowed eyes.
Realising that I once again let my mind wander, I felt my eyes go wide and hurriedly reached up to him to pull him back down to me.
However, he leaned back and grabbed my hand, exhaled harshly and shook his head.
Before the feeling of rejection could set in though, he lowered my hand to my stomach with deliberate gentleness and straightened.
"What's wrong? Why did you stop?" I asked, leaning up.
Still studying me with slightly narrowed eyes, he replied, "we can't do this. Not yet anyways."
Was he kidding? After coming all the way here, he is saying this?
Even though a strange relief washed over me, I scowled at him for the trouble I went throught to come all the way here for nothing as I stared up at him.
A small, insecure part of me whispered that maybe he finally decided he didn't find me attractive after all, and in my frazzled, confused state, I, yet again, spoke the first thing that popped into my mind.
Sitting up completely now, I blurted, "if this is about the wine stain, I can always change the shirt, you know."
What the hell, brain?
Sighing, he sat back on his heels and said, "then let's talk it over the dinner. After you've had time to change your shirt and your mind."
He stepped off the bed, and walked all the way to the door before I asked, "what do you mean?"
Turning, he gave me a cynical smile that didn't reach his eyes, and replied, "it's not you, its me, Ruth. I prefer to canoodle with women who find me hotter than my furniture."
I opened my mouth to protest, but shut it as something close to anger reflected on his face, even as his voice remained pleasant.
"It's an almost medical condition, I'm afraid. I kinda grew out of sleeping with women, who'd regret it as soon as it's over, just after my teens. The psychiatrists called it 'growing-up'."
Gritting his teeth, his fake smile stretched wider, making the anger blaze clearer in his eyes, he continued, "but since you are here for whichever reason other than me, make yourself at home, Ms. Brooke. Dinner's at 9, so don't be late. Certain things are not enjoyable when they are lukewarm."
With that he closed the door and left and I plopped down on the bed, realising I might have managed to hurt his ego within the first hour of my arrival.