„You do know that this is very dangerous territory."
Downey's eyes scan the door of the club. With every swing of the door, the music is blasting out of the building. Green neon lights tell you to enter and enjoy, as we make our way across the street towards the entrance.
I look over my shoulder. "I thought you liked danger."
He growls and gives me a wicked glance. "I will hold you responsible then. But don't come for me later."
"I thought you liked it when I came for you," I say, trying to hold his gaze, knowing exactly what I am doing.
"You seem to be doing a lot of thinking lately," Downey says and grabs my arm, pulling me past the doorman inside the club.
There has been a fire inside of me every second Sunday for the past two months, to the curtesy of him in particular. Every Sunday evening I have been spending hours getting ready, putting on the sexiest thing I could find, pulling it off and trying to find something less obvious. Something that won't scream "I've been having sex dreams about you for the past few months, please just make a move or I will die". But he hasn't made a move. He knows better than to just outright try. Knows that I won't just grant him access, because it did hurt me and I am trying to get over the fact that he didn't tell me he was still married. Even though that argument doesn't seem as convincing, when I look into his stormy eyes. The way he talked to me tonight almost made me just grab him over the table and kiss him right then and there. And the way he described what he might be thinking under the shower didn't make the urge go away. I didn't know, had just guessed it, tried shooting my shot and boy, did it strike. Right now he is looking quite unsure of what I plan on doing. Wary of my sudden open flirtation, which was a pain to hold back for so many weeks. And even though I did not plan the night to go this way, I would see it in his eyes. That hunger. The same one I hope to unleash later tonight.
The music is so loud that I cannot hear my thoughts, as Downey pulls me further into the club. I am reminded of the first time being here, with him. My mind reaches for all the moments of him dancing with me, moving to the music. Of his hands generously exploring my body, always on beat.
"You want a drink?" He shouts into my ear and a nervous shiver trickles down my back. Having him so close to me does not necessarily relax me. And it has been a while, since we've done anything but touch each other's hands. It was the agreement. A treaty, if you might say. No touching, no long lingering hugs, no intense stares and definitely no late night visits or showing up drunk at each other's doors. And it did go well, if I do say so myself. Up until now. Until tonight. I don't know what exactly happened, but maybe the idea of him not being legally tied to somebody else does have its appeal.
My head turns towards him and our eyes meet. We're so close that I can feel his hot breath on my skin. He smells of salty citrus and it makes my mind explore memories of him all over me. Of his body intertwined with mine, his mouth close to my ear, hot uneven breaths on my lips.
"I'll get some," I say and try to shake the memory from my head. "What do you want?"
"Don't care. Just keep it clean," Downey says.
"I think that's about the only time you'll ask me to do that."
The corner of his mouth twitches and his eyes turn dark. I almost feel his breath becoming unsteady, as if there was an invisible string attached to each of our bodies. Connecting us. Allowing him to know exactly what I've just been thinking about.
"I'm warning you." Downey mouths over the music and I hide my grin as I turn around and walk up to the bar.
The place is packed, all these people pushing and pulling. The bar is located in the back of the club and surrounded by glass doors, drowning out the music.
A couple moves away, so I am able to step up to the bar. The bartender looks at me. "What can I get you?"
"Two gin and tonics, please," I tell her and she gives me a quick nod, moving down the the other end of the bar.
"Someone is having a good time." A voice calls from behind me.
I turn towards my left side and my eyes lay themselves on a man, sliding into the seat next to me. He places his forearms on the counter, turning his body.
"I'm Sam," he tells me.
"Good for you." I give him a weak smile and turn back to the bar.
„Are you having a good time?" He asks me, smiling. He has frighteningly straight white teeth, almost blinding me. Piercing green eyes are staring back at me in expectation.
„Sure," I tell him.
„I like your shoes," he tries again.
My insides role their eyes. „Thank you."
„You sure as hell are not giving me anything to work with here," Sam says.
I turn towards him. "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested, I'm just trying to get a drink."
He moves an inch towards me, as if he has trouble understanding me. "And I'm just trying to get the most beautiful woman here to talk to me."
I let out a soft laugh. "That's very kind, but I really am just trying to get a drink here."
Sam lets out a sigh. "Listen Honey, you're hot and I really think we both could show each other a good time. So why don't we cut to the good part?" He rises from the bar stool and leans towards me. His breath smells like spearmint gum and penetrates my nose as I try to put some more space between us.
"Has that line ever worked for you?" I ask him and stretch my neck, trying to spot the bartender over his shoulder.
He grins in a way that makes me believe it actually has. "You tell me, Baby."
"Oh, I'm not your baby," I reply and turn back to the bar, placing my hands on the counter.
He puts his hand on mine. "I think you should reconsider."
"And I think you should move away from her." A deep voice resounds from behind me.
I snatch my hand away from the touch and turn around. When my eyes land on his, I can't help but let out a sigh. Downey takes another step towards us and moves one hand through his hair, pulling it back. His face is a mask of hard intensity, urging me not to upset him any further. But the guy seems to fail to place his expression.
"Nobody asked you," Sam says.
Downey's expression doesn't falter. "She told you she wasn't interested."
"How do you know?"
"Just step away from her."
"And who are you? Her chaperone?" Sam gives Downey a once over, carefully assessing if he is just a random guy at a bar.
"I'm the guy you thank for telling you to stop before you start embarrassing yourself." Downey smiles politely. But Sam doesn't seem to find it polite at all. He pushes himself off the bar and goes to stand right in front of Downey. They are standing head to head, staring aggressively into each other's eyes. This is about to become a really uncomfortable situation, I can sense it. And I haven't even had a drink yet.
"What's your problem, huh? Are you her boyfriend or what?" Sam growls and I roll my eyes. Men. A couple people start looking at the two of them. Also sensing that something is brewing.
"That is none of your concern," Downey says, his voice strained.
Sam lets out a bitter laugh. "Ha, so you're not even her boyfriend. You're just trying to fuck her, huh? Get some of that tight ass, huh?"
I inhale a sharp breath and Downey's fists tighten. "Say that again and I will make sure you won't be able to eat for the next month."
"Why don't I introduce my fist to your face then?" Sam snaps.
But Downey doesn't seem fazed at all by Sam's threat. "Why don't you try?"
"That's enough!" I hiss and step forward, putting my hands on both of their chests, pushing them apart. "We're all just trying to enjoy the night. There is no need for this kind of toxic masculine behavior."
Finally, Sam backs away and shakes his head. "Do you even know this guy?" He gives me an uneasy look and points at Downey, who is straightening his jacket.
There are a lot of ways I could play this. I could just say yes. Yet something inside of me shifts and I glance at Sam, knowing he won't back down until I say it. There are just that kind of men out here.
"Yes," I tell him, "He is my boyfriend," I blurt out.
Downey coughs, his head snapping to the side, eyes trying to find mine.
"Fuck," Sam breathes and shakes his head "Fine."
After a long intense glance at Downey, he turns around and stomps off to the dance floor.
I let out an in-held breath and just go back to the bar, taking the gin tonic that is finally standing on the counter. But Downey has followed me in one swift move, his breath forming heat on my neck. As he speaks, his voice leaves a tingle on my skin.
"You okay?"
I shake my head. "I don't feel like drinking anymore, to be honest."
Hating that Downey stepped in to the rescue, even though I could have handled it myself. And hating that Sam probably wouldn't have backed down if he hadn't.
Downey leans in closer to me. I can feel his chest pressing up against my back, his arms are at my sides, trapping me in a dangerous position. And even though I have been waiting for this, for him, I feel angry.
"I have been waiting to say this all night," Downey grumbles into my ear, "let's go home."
I spin around, so I can look him directly in the eyes. "You think just because you play knight in shining armor you get to fuck me?"
Downey's eyes widen at my choice of words. He frowns, not understanding my change of mood. "Did I do something wrong?" he says, sounding concerned.
"I'm not some price you get to claim," I snap.
"That's not what I was implying," he consoles, but I just stare back at him. His eyes try to search something inside of mine, as if he were able to find what he missed.
"Let's just leave," I say and Downey leans back, releasing me from his embrace. I try not to whimper at the loss of his warmth. The familiar feeling of his body so close to mine.
I quickly walk out of the club, Downey following one step behind. As we step out into the night, people are walking past us, drunk, laughing, shouting incomprehensible words. Before I can say anything else, he has hailed a cab and put me in the backseat. As I stare out of the window, he tells the driver my address and the car moves back into the traffic. We ride in deafening silence, as I am trying to find the words to say that I am not really mad at him, but angry at this random guy who didn't take "no" for an answer, mad at the situation and also kind of mad at him for acting like some over protective idiot. But I would also like to tell him that I am dying to kiss him right now. I couldn't even form a reasonable thought two minutes ago, with his lips so close to mine. It would have just taken a swift lean forward. Mere seconds.
When the cab pulls up in front of my apartment, Downey hands him a couple of bills and gets out of the car. I open my door and slide out of the car, walking up to the steps leading to my building. After fishing the key out of my pocket, I unlock the door and we walk up the two flights of stairs. As we step into my kitchen, the clock on the wall shows that it's two in the morning.
I take off my jacket and throw it on the counter. Downey, still in his, leans against the sink. His back turned on my unwashed dishes. He wears the same expression he has at business meetings, distant and calm. Yet there is something in his eyes that I can't quite place.
"Do you want some water?" I ask and Downey just looks at me.
"What happened?" he asks.
"What do you mean?" I ask, knowing exactly what he is referring to.
He crosses his arms. "First you're testing my faith by saying all these very inappropriate things and then suddenly you can't stand me? So I'm asking you, if it's something I did?"
"I just don't like feeling like some trophy that is gifted to the male who dares to punch the other one in the face," I snap.
"I wasn't going to actually punch him," Downey says.
"You don't believe that, do you? I could see from two feet away that you were ready to break his neck."
Downey shrugs. "He shouldn't be allowed to talk about you like that."
"And you're the one who decides that?"
"I'm sorry, was I not supposed to tell him to back off?" he says, with a tense voice.
"That's not what I meant, but I could have handled it myself," I say, "I don't need you to defend me."
He moves away from the sink. "Believe me, I know that you can hold your own. I didn't step in because I was trying to save you, I stepped in because I was trying to spare you another second with this asshole."
"And you do that by threatening him?"
He rolls his eyes. "Did you see that retired fratboy? He wasn't going to just back down, because you told him to."
"But that doesn't give you the right to act like I'm some possession. Like you're my-
"Boyfriend?" Downey interrupts, "because that's what you told him, didn't you?"
I knew this was going to come up. Knew it from the moment I said it that it would be the topic of discussion after we leave. I scan his face for any hint about his feelings in this moment, but nothing comes up. His brown eyes are just dark and staring back at me. Only now I notice that he hasn't shaved and a light salt and pepper stubble is tracing his chin. Before I catch myself, I can't help but think of the way it might feel, the sensation of it on my lips, my neck, my chest or my thighs.
"I knew he wasn't going to leave if I didn't," I reply with a level tone.
Downey crosses his arms, now leaning against the little kitchen island, right across from me. "So you can tell this guy I'm your boyfriend, but I can't act like it?"
"Why are you so keen on acting like my boyfriend, Downey?" I ask him, shamelessly being an ass about it.
He frowns. "I wasn't the one saying it. I'm just trying to understand what you want."
"Excuse me?"
"I just don't know what you want," he repeats, lowering his arms. "One moment you act like fucking me is the only thing on your mind and the next you can't stand me?"
"So you think that fucking you is all I think about?" I say, narrowing my eyes.
"Oh, I'm sorry, do you want repeat what you said in that bar about three hours ago or should I?" he says, clenching his jaw.
I shake my head. "I was just trying to be funny." And it's a straight up lie. But Downey knows me too well to believe it even for one second.
"Jesus, you can't even admit to it. What am I doing here, Aria? Why did you take me to that place and why am I at your apartment at two in the morning? Sure as hell not because of my great breakfast making skills."
"I didn't ask you to come up," I say.
"You didn't have to," Downey replies, catching my glance. His brows are drawn together and he opens his mouth to say something, but closes it, waiting.
Then he sighs and rubs his hand on his chin. "I truly am sorry that I made you feel like you couldn't handle the situation on your own. That wasn't my intention at all. You are your own person and you can make your own decisions. I was just trying to help someone I care about. But when he talked that way about you and when you called me your-. I just-. Something just flipped inside of me. I shouldn't have acted like some cave man, I know. But you seriously need to stop finding any reason for you to pick as to why I can't be close to you."
My eyes widen. "I am not purposely trying to find a reason."
Downey chuckles. "Of course you are, but that's what you always do when you're scared of something. You make up a reason why it cannot work."
"Well, thanks for the therapy session, Dr. Phil," I mock.
He still chuckles as he pushes himself off the counter and starts walking towards the door.
"What are you doing?" I ask him.
"It's two in the morning and I have to work tomorrow, which technically is today. And I was getting the feeling that you did not want me here. So I am leaving," Downey shrugs.
But of course, I didn't want him to leave. Didn't want him to go outside, somewhere other than my apartment. I had been waiting too long for him to finally be here again. To find myself in a situation where we weren't actively trying to not fall onto each other naked. But now in this moment, I don't know what to say to him. So I do what I always do.
"Did you like it?" I ask him.
"Like what?"
"Me telling that man that you were my boyfriend." Shamelessly teasing him. "Did that turn you on?"
Downey's grip on the doorhandle tightens visibly.
"Did that make you want to leave with me?" I whisper.
Downey shakes his head in a swift motion. "No."
And even though I try to hide it I can't help but look surprised.
"It made me want to punch that guy in the face," he hisses and I can see that he is angry at himself for giving in to my game so easily.
"Oh," I say, "interesting."
He lifts his eyes and purposefully catches my glance."It also made me want to bend you over and take you right against that counter."
I let out a hitched breath and Downey's hand lets go of the doorknob, as he takes two step towards me.
"It made me me want to take you home and have you in this bed," he continues, pointing at the bedroom door behind me. "And it made me want to kiss you."
He is coming closer every second, only needing one more step to be right in front of me and he slowly takes it. His voice is low now, nothing more than a growl and something in his tone reminds me about all the times he did those things he is referring to.
"Here," he says and ever so softly places his finger on the side of my throat. "Here". His finger lifts and touches the spot between my breasts, making me inhale sharply. "And here." Downey's finger grazes my lower lip and linger on top of it. And even though I know exactly what this will bring upon me, I give myself to it and slowly, very carefully as not to seem to eager, open my mouth.
His eyes widen in surprise and he lets out a low growl, as I let my lips surround his finger. Delicately, I caress it with my tongue and Downey's mouth opens slightly, letting out tight uneven breaths.
"I've been wondering what that feels like," he breathes.
I look up at him, his finger out of my mouth. "What else have you been wondering about?"
He waits, as if he really is thinking about his answer.
"I've been wondering when I would finally be able to do that again."
"Do what?" I ask, holding his gaze.
Downey's mouth forms into a grin. "This", he says and then his hand wanders towards my throat, pushing my head slightly upward. Before I can object, his lips have met mine. And oh boy.
My knees almost buckle has he kisses me. Finally kisses me. And I can't help but surrender to his touch. As I open my mouth to his, Downey lets out a groan and pulls me further towards him. His tongue wanders along my lower lip, making my body react. I sigh as he pulls away, kissing the side of my neck, sucking the very sensitive spot near my ear. Feeling his smile against my skin, I push him away, so I can look into his eyes.
"How long have you been thinking about this?" I ask him.
Downey frowns, either from not understanding why I would chose this moment to ask a question or the question itself. "I never stopped."
"So all of those Sundays at that bar, you were secretly plotting to do this?"
He starts to laugh. "I wouldn't necessarily call that plotting."
"What would you call it then?"
"Daydreaming," he says with a wicked grin. "Don't tell me you haven't wasted a single thought on it?"
I shrug. "Not really."
"Has anyone ever told you that you're an incredibly bad liar?"
I pinch his arm and he squeals.
"Ouch," he yelps, "I'm sorry, but do you remember at all what you said to me in that bar? Because you sure as hell seem to have forgotten that you forced me to tell you about my secrets."
"I don't think you lusting after me would be considered a secret anymore," I say and shamelessly grin back at him.
Downey's dark eyes light up. "When will you ever stop teasing?"
"When will you ever stop talking?" I reply, lazily.
Then Downey pushes me slightly and my back meets the counter, as he deliberately leans against me. Our bodies so close, not even a piece of paper could fit in between. He slowly licks his lips, eyes dancing from my face to my throat. "For the past two months there has been nothing else on my mind but you. I've talked about you, I've thought about you and I've dreamed about you. I want you so much right now that I almost punched a guy in the face because he was even considering you as something he could have."
"And I have been dying every Sunday for the past two months, to touch you. Seeing you so close to me and not being able to touch your face, your hair, taste your lips, was pure agony. I know that things have been difficult, but things have changed and what I am just trying to say is- if you didn't want me to play with fire, you shouldn't have come here made of fireworks."
My right eyebrow shoots up and the corner of my lip twitches ever so slightly. His hands are pressing down on my sides, his lips dangerously close to mine.
"Then you should stop talking and start lighting a match," I say and Downey grins.
He lifts me on the kitchen counter and lets his eyes wander over my body. His hands spreading my knees apart, for him to step between them. Before he buries himself in my neck, he slowly looks me in the eyes and smiles.
"You are so hot you're hurting my feelings."