This is the revised version of Attraction
My wallet was empty, my hands were full, and the elevator smelled of Chinese. There was an edge to the spiciness which had me blinking every few seconds. The heat could become problematic if this continued. Breaking out in sweat during dinner was not flattering at all. Also, my pale skin liked to take on a red tinge if the chef had been overly enthusiastic with the chili.
I found myself in an awkward dilemma outside the apartment door. Was I supposed to knock? Should I use my key and simply get inside? Clutching the paper bags, the solution became obvious. Getting the key from my pocket would be all but impossible, so knocking it was.
Tom's footsteps sounded on the other side. The subtle announcement gave me those additional few seconds of preparation I desperately needed. Nothing was amiss. Tom was home, and that was completely normal and shouldn't affect me at all.
He wore a frown but remained attractive as hell. I'd almost forgotten. Fantasies didn't do him justice at all.
"Why are you knocking?"
I held out the bags. "I'm lazy."
The slight shake of his head was expected. "I'll pour us some beer." He took the paper bags and retreated to the kitchen, leaving me to get myself together. I'd never been so happy to untie laces, and it might have taken a few minutes extra than absolutely necessary despite my nimble fingers. Laces were tricky and slippery after all.
Tom had poured two beers when I entered the kitchen. With dismay, I realized that he'd cleaned up after me. He wasn't supposed to be home tonight, and I hadn't exactly been neat. It happened every time I fell too far.
Based on the tense air around him, I had a feeling he wasn't all that happy with me. "Sorry for the mess. I didn't think you'd be home."
I'd never seen his lips so thin.
"What happened with my closet?" The question unraveled everything all at once, and he didn't even have the courtesy to look me in the eye.
"You mean that I found a place for my clothes? I thought I was supposed to live here. Or perhaps that's the problem? You know, I didn't choose to live here either." I backed one step, knowing full well that I'd gone too far. I wasn't myself, and this night had thrown me for a loop so grand that I'd lost control. Lost it when I least of all should. Fuck.
"Fine." He still didn't look at me.
I tried. I fought to keep myself firm on the ground, but I was boiling. "Fine? What's that supposed to mean? You said to make myself at home. Do you even know how difficult that is?"
He finally looked at me. "You think it's easy to let anyone stay here? I've lived alone for twelve years. You barge into my life like you have every right to it. I come home and you've rearranged my clothes after one week living here."
His anger was somehow liberating. It meant I could shout it all out. Release all those pent up emotions and get rid of it all. Only, he wasn't the right person to receive it. I barely knew him. I wanted to know him—I wanted to understand every facet, every subtle gesture, every intonation.
I let out a sigh, utterly repulsed by my behavior. "Sorry. Think I've gone too long without a good fuck." I hadn't meant to say that out loud, but I realized too late.
Tom faced me, his eyes narrowed. "If you want to fuck that desperately, I'm not going to stop you. Go out, have your fun."
I gripped the counter behind me, unsure how the hell we'd come to this. I'd been happy to hear that he was back, but an angry exchange after a few days apart...I could have lived without that.
He turned to portion the food, clearly stewing with anger.
My arms flung out on their own accord. "You know what? I just wanted a calm evening. I can't deal with this."
"Suit yourself. I know I can't expect you to be faithful."
His words halted whatever it was I'd been meaning to say. "Would you want me to be?" There it was, the stupid vulnerability I couldn't afford, but it was too late to take it back.
"I didn't think it mattered what I wanted." With his back turned against me, I couldn't interpret what he meant. With no facial clues to guide me, he left me helpless. When he turned, I almost wished he hadn't. The cold gaze conveyed a lot more than words ever could. "Because this is all about you, isn't it?"
Tension curled around me, fighting to lash out or run away. He was right. There was no way to refute him. I had been selfish, allowing this fraud to spill over into his life just so I could stay. Convenience when I had no right to claim anything.
"Then why did you do it? Why did you marry me?"
He shook his head as if he couldn't believe I'd asked the question. "It's done. And it's not like we need to run into each other."
"Well you have me here now."
It took him a few seconds. "You think I married you to have easy access?"
I couldn't deal with his anger. I couldn't deal with mine. The tension kept pushing and pulling, and with his eyes blazing like that...I wondered what went on in his head. My outburst about sex hadn't been all that off the mark. I needed him like I needed air, and the anger only fed that hunger.
With one swift, decisive movement, I slipped out of my shirt, baring naked skin beneath. "I'm willing. Is that so hard to imagine? Maybe it was convenient to marry, but do you really think this selfish bastard would marry someone I didn't want at all?"
Tom's neck pulsed with anger. "You're...you're an entitled shit, you know that right? A privileged—"
"Yes, I'm privileged, but don't for a second think that my life was all rainbows and unicorns."
"Get your shirt on."
His words shouldn't have hurt, but I'd opened up, admitting that I wanted him. The refusal stung—the words less than the way he dismissed me with an exasperated wave.
I studied him, looking for any indication that I could turn this around somehow. Others might have called me desperate, and perhaps I was.
The atmosphere in the small kitchen reeked of so many different emotions that I hesitated. Was this where I would retreat and admit defeat? I eyed the pile of gray fabric on the floor. No. He was still looking at me, rigid and ready to burst.
All it took was a small step in his direction, and then I knew. The slight twitch of his right hand, his fingernails digging deep into his palms. He wanted this as much as I did, even if I merely counted as a warm body.
He had nowhere to go, pushed up against the counter behind him. I put my fingers to use, undoing button after button on his black shirt. The finely woven fabric felt cold and silky against my touch, but what lay beneath was even better. A light graze of a finger, a slip really, an accidental caress.
His breath hitched. The sound was next to inaudible, but I caught it and let that be my guide. Running my palm against his warm chest was better than I remembered. Our wedding night had been special, but this was something else. This was unexpected. Dangerous.
The heavy pulse from his heart thrummed against my hand, steady and sure. A secret smile clung to my lips, refusing to let go until I leaned in and touched him with a kiss. He tasted of peppermint, and even if he didn't kiss me back, I counted the lack of refusal as a victory. I searched deeper, letting out a sound of appreciation when he finally answered.
I inched back, breathing against his open mouth. "I want you to fuck all this anger away."
"You're insufferable."
I pressed my palm against his erection. "This guy doesn't think so."
"If only you would stop playing games. I can never tell when you're sincere."
"And you don't play games?"
The question seemed to break every last restraint coiled around his body. He placed a hand around my back and shoved us closer. "Maybe if I fuck you, I'll get to see the real you for once."
I almost backed away. Almost. The real me. He didn't want to see the real me, not yet. No one wanted a taste of years' worth of grief and loneliness. No one wanted damaged goods. Only, I didn't stand a chance to retreat. He held me firm, letting his hands roam my flushed skin.
There were no questions left to ask as he guided me through the apartment into our bedroom. Each step was a freaking journey, but I didn't complain. I didn't dare. I would go wherever he wanted to take me.
A lamp on the bedside table cast a soft glow over the otherwise dark room, and as he closed the door behind us, it became eerily quiet, silent enough that I imagined the sound of my racing heart. The noise from the city outside vanished, leaving everything up to us. Each rushed exhale, each hesitant shudder.
Tom splayed his fingers above my heart, pressing lightly until I gave in. Falling back on the bed, I watched him remove the rest of his clothes. Item after item, and this time he didn't seem to care that they landed on the floor. The tiny change felt colossal. The slipping control made all the difference. He tugged off my pants, discarding them as he had everything else.
I sat up, reaching for his hand to pull him down on top of me. He was fucking gorgeous when he prowled, climbing onto the bed with an intent I hadn't seen a few nights ago. This was new.
I wasn't angry with him anymore, but my anger against the world and myself remained. His held firm—I felt it linger in his touch. It was understandable. I'd pushed him harder than I thought possible. He had every right to be mad.
His firm hold of my hip appeared infused with enraged passion. It was a simple touch, a confident claim. When the barriers were down, when the fight was won, there was nothing left to prove. Not for him. What it meant for me could wait until tomorrow. It could wait until all was said and done because I had no way of stopping any of this.
My eyes flew open while he prepared me, leaving me no time to breathe before he switched gears. Beneath him, I was falling apart at the seams with ridiculous ease, failing to cling to sanity. It was all his fault.
The ravenous hunger preyed upon us both. It fed off our anger, transforming his deep, almost painful thrusts into careful strokes. The change was gradual, almost imperceptible. I'd asked him to rid us of all that pent up tension, but I almost regretted it.
Anger isn't vulnerable.
Fear latched on to my skin, making me shivering cold where he was warm. I didn't know what he wanted from me. The real me, he'd said. Was that the reason he pulled at my strings? Luring me in with kisses along my jaw, his touch searching for sensitive spots. He wanted me undone, but was he truly ready? Emotions were dangerous. Love unwanted. So what could he possibly ask of me?
I cried out, curling around him.
It was too intense. Too much.
If only he would care about me the way I cared about him.
The orgasm tore through me without mercy, leaving me without protection. Perhaps that was what he wanted. Perhaps that was the reason for his tender kiss. A token of sorts. A gift that tasted of everything I could ever want but couldn't have.
A/N I hope you're enjoying this new updated version of the novel. Are you noticing any changes? I know it was a long time ago you had a possibility to read it :)
And here is some fan art from @winter2207 <3 I think this line here still holds true. haha
Or what do you say? Does Joah know what he's gotten himself into?