that is staring me in the face. I’m semi-hard just sitting next to her and wondering how I can get through tonight without touching her. Because no matter how badly I’d love to play doctor with her this very moment, jumping into bed with my new neighbor would be a very bad idea. And I’ve been done with bad ideas for a long time now.
“No, I’m not a doctor, just fascinated with the way the human body works.” I get up and reach for a bag resting on the chair next to my couch. “I bought you something.”
She looks at me wide-eyed, her bangs falling slightly to the left and covering part of her face. Damn those eyes never fail to draw me in. Every time I look into them I get a little lost, and I’m not sure I want to be found.
“Well, where is it?” she asks.
Startled back into the here and now, I pull a pillow out of the bag and hand it to her as I sit back down.
She inspects every inch of it, her forehead bunched in confusion. “Why red?”
“Your apartment needs a little color.”
“What’s wrong with my apartment?”
“It’s all white.” Her eyes scan the living room again, taking in the colorful photos, the royal blue sofa we’re sitting on, and the white and red striped rug in front of her.
“I like white. It’s a consistent color, matches with everything, and never lets you down.”
“It’s boring,” I argue.
She shrugs. “But still, why red? Why not blue or green—or yellow for that matter?”
“Yellow? Who decorates with yellow?”
“You’re avoiding the question.”
I saw that pillow in a window walking through town today. There’s nothing special about it, but it’s red and the minute my eyes landed on it, Addison’s face popped into my vision. I wanted to see that pillow smack in the center of her white living room. It kills me that everything is so sterile. I see sterile all the time at the hospital, and it’s depressing.
“Red’s a great color, Addison. It represents a lot of things.”
“Like?”
“Life, love, and . . . lips.”
Her eyes blink for every one of the words I just used, and she still seems confused.
“You’re an attorney, I thought you were supposed to be smart.” She throws the pillow at me.
“Lips are pink.”
“Yours aren’t.”
Her hand reaches up to her mouth and the tips of her fingers trail along the outer edges of her perfectly curved cherry colored lips.
Wrapping my hand around her delicate wrist, I remove it from her face. “Don’t cover them up like that.”
She parts them, and I can almost see the breath leaving her lungs and escaping through the small opening she just created. My fingers rest right on her pulse as it beats in tune with my own heartbeat. There’s a clear line of tension stretching from her mouth to mine. I want to bite down hard on those lips, suck them between my own pink lips, and slide my tongue along each one.
The timer on the microwave begins to beep saving me from acting on my thoughts. One day I’m going to kiss her, take those lips and suck on them for so long they become swollen and redder than they already are. And then, I’m going to suck on her other lips and make her tremble beneath me—but not tonight.
“Dinner’s ready.”
Nodding, she doesn’t move. With the strength of Hercules, I remove my hand from her wrist and get our plates ready.
“That was so good. Do you always cook like that?”
Two glasses of wine down, and she’s cleared her plate. “Every night.”
“I’m coming over here for dinner more often.” Staring out into the dark abyss of the ocean, the night is cool and calm for January. There’s a light breeze blowing her hair around her face, and she looks so carefree and content sitting here with me. The distant look that so often plagues her face when I’m around her vanished. Maybe I fill a void for her, a loneliness she has yet to share with me.
“You can have dinner with me any night you want.”
Her eyes light up with pure delight, “You are going to regret that statement.”
“Why?” I ask chuckling.
“Because I’ll take you up on it and eventually you’re going to have to kick me out.” I sit and stare at her smiling face, deciding the asshole she’s talked about must not be her boyfriend. Obviously he means something to her, and I’m going to find out what it is, but the idea that she