He unlocks the glass door allowing me to step inside. The wind and rain are coming down in sheets, and it looks like it’s not gonna stop anytime soon. October can be beautiful or it can be a bitch. And since this is just the second week of it, it appears it’s decided to go the bitch route.
I pull the hood back from my head, and realize my hair likely looks like something from a horror movie. But at least it’s halfway dry, unlike the rest of me.
“You’re soaked, babe,” he comments, taking the liberty of helping me out of my hoodie. “Let’s get you some dry clothes.”
Babe.
I like the endearment.
“So, how do you access your apartment from here?” I ask, following him, my soaked boots making squishy sounds on the tiled flooring, as I try my best to bring some semblance of order to my tangled hair.
“Come, I’ll show you the secret door to my private man cave,” he replies, walking down the hallway and opening a door at the end of it. “After you.”
I walk up the thick-carpeted steps and once I get to the top, I’m impressed by his place. It’s open, kind of a loft type thing, with very masculine decor. Black leather sofa and matching chairs, glass end tables and coffee tables, but it’s his art that totally blows me away.
The walls are white-washed brick, and the framed art canvases have overhead lighting to bring out the various colors and textures of the abstract oil paintings. I immediately go over to inspect them close-up. “These are breath-taking,” I comment, looking down at the bottom left to identify the artist.
KB
I turn quickly to look at Krew. “You did these?” I ask, my eyes widening.
He stands there, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of the blue jeans he’s rocking and cocks a brow. “You seem surprised Princess?”
I shake my head, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I just never knew you were so gifted,” I sputter like the idiot I am.
His laugh is genuine, forgiving and quite honestly, delightful as he closes the distance between us.
Call me weird, but I totally love a guy in blue jeans, a sweater and nothing on his feet but heavy socks. Right now Krew could grace the cover of Stud Monthly. Everything about him, head to toe, and back up again, is pure sexy without trying to be. And his art? Oh my God, his art has my panties damp. It’s so damn unique, so multi-faceted, just as he seems to be that I’m totally bowled over by it. By him.
It’s as if he reads my mind because all of a sudden, his boyish grin fades, and in its place comes a look of warmth and purpose. His hand reaches out, and his fingers gently tilt my chin up so that I’m looking into those vivid moss green eyes of his. “I’m going to kiss you now, Carson,” he whispers softly. “And then I’m going to get some dry clothes for you, okay?”
“Okay,” I reply, my eyes lost in his gaze. He lowers his lips to mine and my eyes close, but all of my other senses are keenly aware of our first kiss.
16
Cold and rainy night
KREW
The first time I laid eyes on Carson Matthews I knew what total fascination was like. It wasn’t just because she was beautiful – although clearly she was – it was more than just her beauty that aroused me, and I don’t mean a sexual arousal. Although God knows, that soon followed in the weeks ahead every time my hands were on her arms, holding her ankles, pressing back against her shoulders and back during her physical therapy sessions with me.
For me it was about her mystique, her strength, and her endurance. She came from privilege, that was apparent, but she wasn’t spoiled in the least. Despite her foul-mouth bitching, she fought hard to get her physical strength back, and I knew it would only be a matter of time before she got her emotional strength back as well. She possessed a strong will and an endless supply of determination which were pivotal to her recovery in every way. And I was witness to it all, often times awestruck by her strength and spirit. And the truth was, once our sessions were over, I felt a little bit of emptiness in my life. No other patient, and there had been plenty of beautiful female ones by the way, had affected me the