Excerpt: Waiting On Death

I look around at the windows, wondering why it is still so dark inside the living room and I notice heavy black curtains over tightly closed Venetian blinds.
Just as I’m thinking about how he must really hate the sun, I trip over a large floor rug, vaulting myself forward a few steps before I regain my balance right in front of the door. I place my palm against the door and breathe a deep sigh of relief. I’m only a few steps away from freedom.
And then I see it—a freaking alarm system.
“You have got to be kidding me!” I hiss into the darkness as I stare at the small electronic box next to the front door, a bright red light telling me that it is indeed armed.
“Shit, shit, mother fucking ass!” Don’t ask me what that string of profanities means, because it is meant to say I’m totally screwed in a way that makes me feel better, by hissing profanities.
I rest my forehead against the door, relishing in the way the cold material feels against my warm forehead. What am I going to do?
“Missing something?” a tired sounding British voice asks from behind me.
I gasp as I spin around, my purse banging loudly against the door. And there he is, standing in all his naked glory at the entrance to the hallway. He is leaning against the frame and dangling from his extended hand is my black lace bra.
I squeeze my eyes closed as the blush devours my face like a hot fire burning with the assistance of accelerants. I will not stare at his chiseled chest. I will not admire the way a small trail of dark hair runs from his belly button to…
No! I can’t think about it.
His low chuckles bounces off of the dark walls as I hear him moving towards me. I take a step back, my back now pressing flush against the door, my eyes still closed tightly as a scene of his hands roaming over my naked body flashes onto my eyelids from the night before.
“I do believe you are blushing, Elizabeth,” he whispers into my ear, causing my to jump back. How did he get over here so fast?
“I…uhhh…you’re naked!” I finally manage to say.
He chuckles again as I feel him rest a hand on either side of my head. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with that last night.”
Smart ass. That is what he is, a fucking smart ass.
My eyes snap open. “I was drunk!” I know that is a lame excuse, but at least it’s the truth.
“I know,” he answers smoothly with a smirk on his face.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You knew I was drunk and you still slept with me?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t think you would mind. After all, you basically jumped me while I was driving.”
I ball my hand up into a fist and hit him in the chest. It isn’t a hard hit, but he doesn’t even acknowledge the act.
“I…and you…and seriously!” I stutter as he continues to stare down at me, his eyes intense as they gaze into mine.
“Elizabeth,” he says calmly as his face slowly moves towards mine.
“What?” I snap in response.
“Shut the bloody hell up,” he says before his lips descend upon mine.
I’m stunned as my fist uncurls and my palm presses flat against his chest, my lips immediately responding to his. Almost instantaneously, all of the nerves in my body seem to ignite with passion and desire as I start to remember the way he felt last night.
He moves his naked body closer to my fully clothed, almost fully clothed, body and I become aware of just how much he wants me.
And then it hits me.
My eyes pop open as I use my hand to push him away. My chest rises and falls with my heavy breathing of desire. “I can’t have sex with you.”
I manage to tell him between pants. Yes, I’m panting. Like a freaking animal in heat. What the hell is this guy doing to me?
The right corner of his mouth curls up into a small smile as his head tilts to the left. “And why is that?”
“Because,” I say as I look up at the ceiling, trying not to think about his naked body that is pressed almost flush against me. “I can’t.”
He stares into my eyes and I can feel the pull he has on me. It is almost like he is willing me to take off my clothes with his eyes.
And damn it if I don’t want to, but I have to stick to whatever shards are left of my broken morals.
“Don’t you dare try that British charm on me, William!” I tell him as I shake my finger at him. I feel like a parent scolding their child.
He tilts his head back and laughs, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down only inches from my face and I’m extremely tempted to bury my face in his neck just to feel his rough skin against mine. “Charm?” he asks with an amusement laced voice.
“Yes!”
Suddenly his face turns very serious as he stares at me. “There is something about you, Elizabeth,” he whispers as he reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out of my face, his fingers trailing slowly over my forehead.
“Do I have something on my face? Is it my breath?” I’m mortified as he stares at me. Did I not see some speck of drool on the corner of my mouth or maybe I have halitosis bad enough to knock over an elephant.
He chuckles softly, a sound that causes my heart to flutter. “You look perfect,” he whispers sincerely.
What. The. Hell. How am I supposed to respond to that? My mouth opens and closes several times as I stare at him, confusion clouding my eyes. “See?” I finally say. “There it is, that British charm you are trying to pretend you don’t have.”
I suddenly start to feel very self-conscious under his gaze and I look down at the floor. I feel his hand under my chin as he raises my face to look at him, his eyes searching mine.
“You’re not used to being complimented. Are you?” I’m not sure why, but I think he sounds a little angry.
“Look,” I say in a whisper as I try to avoid his eyes. What the hell is he doing to me? I do not get mushy! “I have to go.”
He sighs as he pushes himself away from me with his hand on the door. He runs a hand tiredly over his face and I want nothing more than to reach over and run the soft skin of my hands over his morning stubble.
But I don’t.
Instead I look down at the floor. “Can you tell me your address? My friend, Brittany, is going to come get me, but I have no idea where I am.”
He laughs, but it sounds different. It sounds like a sad laugh. “I’ll write down my address for you,” he says as he turns around, giving me a great view of his perfect ass.
He walks to the bar that separates his kitchen from the living room. I can hear him scribbling something as he stands with his back to me. I take in the way the muscles flex against his taunt skin on his back before I notice several dark red scratches across his skin.
I gasp as my hand moves to cover my mouth, a very cliché move on my part. I know. “Did I do that to you?” I ask as he turns to glance at me over his shoulder.
“Do what?” he asks with confusion.
“Those scratches on your back. Did I do that?”
Amusement crosses his face. “You don’t remember?”
I bite down on my lip before I shake my head.
“Yes,” he says as he turns his body around to face me. “The scratches on my back are from your fingernails.”
He begins to walk back towards me with the piece of paper in his right hand.
“Could you maybe, uh, put some pants on or something?” I ask in a weak voice. I’m not sure if I can resist him again if he stays in the buff.
He smiles as he hands me the slip of paper. “Does my being naked bother you?”
“A bit. Yes,” I answer honestly. It just doesn’t bother me in the way he is probably thinking of.
“Alright,” he says with a nod. “I’ll be right back.”
“Could you, umm, maybe find my panties while you are in there?” I ask, completely embarrassed, but more so by the idea of him finding them while making his bed.
“Oh, I already found your panties,” he tells me with a smirk as he continues to walk back towards his room. “But I’m holding on to them.”
My mouth falls agape. “You aren’t going to give me my panties back?” Why in the hell would he want to keep my panties? Is he some pervert or something?
“Nope,” he answers simply before disappearing down the hallway.
I glance down at the slip of paper in my hand. He sure does have nice handwriting. It looks almost like calligraphy. I pull out my cell phone and quickly text Brittany the address. He has also written his cell phone number along with his name on the slip, so I drop into a side pocket of my purse. You know, so I can ignore him when he calls.
“Is she on her way?” he asks as he ties the drawstring on a pair of plaid pajama pants.
My phone vibrates in my hand and I look down to see that she is, indeed, on her way. I bite on my bottom lip as I nod at him.
“She will be here in about ten minutes,” I tell him as I stay close to the door.
He reaches up and runs his hand through his hair. “Would you like some hot tea? Or maybe some coffee?”
I bite down on my bottom lip, as I do quite a bit when I’m nervous, as I shake my head.
He stares at me for a minute before a look of epiphany crosses his features. “You’ve never done this before.”
I look up at him, expecting for him to be looking at me like a naïve little girl, but instead I find a small, comforting smile curling his lips. “No,” I finally say after a minute.