Driftwood Deeds(5)

I realized that I hadn’t said anything and he was looking for a sign that I had understood. I nodded; he smiled and walked out of the room. It came as a relief and an aching lack at the same time. I could breathe again, deeply into that calming region in my lower stomach, and I could move and brush a strand of hair out of my face.

He had been right. I did feel a sense of hesitation against saying no—but the same fear of saying yes. Maybe a greater one and that was the fear he hadn’t alleviated—the fear that made no sense at all. Because if he’d think badly of me for wanting to sleep with him too, what exactly would that make him?

I took a deep, shaking breath and got to my feet—just to see if I still could. It wasn’t difficult at all, they felt a bit tired from the walk but the socks were soft and giving and I could easily have walked down the hallway, made narrow by book cases, and fetched my bag. I even saw it through the door he had left open, lying there at the bottom of his driftwood coat-rack.

I sat back down and placed my palms onto the glass. They were shaking a little, puckering around the joints and warm enough to leave a trace of moist condensation. I heard his footsteps before I could question the positioning at all, and my hands were the first place his eyes landed on. He smiled, then he walked around me and just like that I could feel my cunt pulse against the leather ottoman.

“Why did you put your hands on the table?” he asked quietly and I stared at them too. Because he had said so. The realization made me quiver, my mouth opened but no sound escaped. Paul Archer squatted down next to me. He ran a finger along my jaw and smiled.

“That’s okay, we’ll find out later. I remembered.” From his other hand, he produced a small dish of biscuits, simple digestives with a chocolate coating. “I had some hidden away.”

He retreated to his side of the table, smiled and sat down again. I took one conscious breath, trying to remember the last time I had spoken as much as a word. I managed a smile and reached for a cookie.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“Paul,” he suggested and then his mouth curved into a crooked, attractive smile. “Or... Sir.”

I was back to having trouble breathing with the sudden wash of pulsing need between my legs. My eyes went wide, and he reset his glasses, smiled pleasantly and reached for a digestive himself as though nothing of consequence had been said.





IV





“It’s okay, I’ve read your review of Secretary,” he said after a while, and I looked up from my biscuit, revealing the blush that colored my cheeks as I made my lips curve into a vaguely mocking smile I didn’t really feel.

“And you made choosing me sound like such a sophisticated research process...” I said, casting my eyes down as I managed a chuckle that picked up life when he joined in and his eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Oh, it was. This was a bonus, just information to store away somewhere in the back of my mind.”

I bit my lower lip and our eyes met over our mugs of tea.

“It was very insightful,” he continued. “I liked how you expressed your disagreement about its placement under comedy.”

His praise was like fire in my veins, too. I must have smiled and agreed and just like that, we talked about movies and I felt safe again because it was my chosen subject, something I could talk about at length without feeling inferior, younger or silly with those hot flashes reminiscent of my teenage years. And yet, at all times I was under the impression that he knew this very well and gave me a few minutes’ respite to gather myself quite deliberately. It felt natural at the time, but when I had finally relaxed and was speaking more animatedly, with my hands in the air, gesturing and laughing, we found our way back to Secretary and this time, it didn’t make me blush. He extolled the characters and their portrayal, and while I was still nodding in avid agreement, he tilted his head just an inch or so.

“Did it make you curious when you watched it?” he asked and where repetition made the shock easier to bear, it still soared through me with unexpected force.

I nodded, only once. Then quickly recovered. “I think... That’s the charm, it would make most people wonder, wouldn’t it?”

“I’m not sure, actually,” Paul disagreed openly for the first time, his brow was wrinkled in thought before he smiled. “A lot of people think it’s comedy.”

I had to laugh and his eyes shone. I don’t know how long we looked at each other like that but when I blinked, he raised his brows.

“Come here,” he said in that quiet voice that carried easily and seemed to fill the entire room. It wasn’t a question and I didn’t answer. Drawn up by the force of his will, I got to my feet and walked almost numbly around the table. He had not moved and he only looked at me once, before he indicated the spot on the floor next to him. I felt my face pulsing heat into my cheeks, and my cunt contracted and swelled against the panel of my knickers.