Head Over Wheels (Steamy New Adult Romance) (23 page)

F
riday couldn't arrive fast enough. I spent the week wallowing in a dream. Indigo was like a drug, and I was addicted. I'd become such a clock-watcher, I felt like a player at crunch time.

After pulling up the zipper of my jeans, I made sure the embroidered seams were smooth and straight.

"Emma! Which sweater goes best with my studded jeans?"

In less than a minute, she appeared in my bedroom doorway, granola bar in hand.

"I keep forgetting to call and thank your mom for the chili and rice," she said as she munched.

"I already told her you ate it almost every night this week for dinner, which says it all."

She laughed. "The only reason I'm not having it tonight is it's finished." She chomped her last piece of granola, crumbled the wrapper, and tossed it into the vanity wastebasket beside the door.

Standing in front of my closet, I pulled out several hangers. "What do you think of this?" I held up a white linen shirt.

"Nah. Looks too western for those jeans."

I wedged it back between others on the rack. "Okay then. How about this?" I presented a yellow tube top and somewhat matching striped shirt.

Emma laughed. "No way. He'll try to pick you because you'll look like a daffodil in bloom."

I shot her a smirk. "This is the last of my wardrobe." I yanked a purple v-neck angora sweater off the end of the rack.

"Perfection. Purple's your best color." She pulled her cell phone out of her trouser pocket, flopped on my bed, and proceeded to check her messages while I slipped the sweater over my head.

"There goes the hair," I complained. "Nice and staticy." I grabbed my brush and the bottle of static relief Brittany had given me, and went to work on the tangles. After a few minutes, my hair was sleek and shiny, my frizzy head no longer transmitting signals to outer space.

"When's he picking you up?"

"Sixish. How do I look?"

"Splendid."

I plopped down beside Emma. "I have a few minutes." I swept my hand over the smooth satin spread. "You know, something's been bugging me."

She swung her head in my direction. "As usual, I'm all ears."

"I've been really losing control lately. It's like, when I'm around Indigo, I want to be a total slut."

Emma burst out laughing. "I've never known anyone who'd admitted to wanting to be a slut."

"We're getting closer and closer. It's like we're nearing a cliff, but neither of us wants to fall off ... I guess for our own reasons."

"What's yours?"

I curled my bottom lip down. "I'm twenty-one, Emma, and old enough to get laid physically, but psychologically, I have to hold back. I don't want to completely lose it over him. I don't think I could take another Nikos. And Indigo is so much more than Nikos ever was. But there's something about him that's so secretive. He's like a thermometer registering so many different temperatures. That's what's got me going in circles."

"What do you mean? Like he's lying to you? Seeing someone else? Married? Oh my God." She covered her mouth with a hand. "That fuckstick."

"Nooo. I know he's not married. He barely has time for me. I doubt he's hiding a wife and kids anywhere." Suddenly, I felt childish. I leaned to check my reflection in the dresser mirror. "From the boobs up, I guess I look okay," I said offhandedly, carefully lifting the crown of my hair with my fingertips. "He gets distant sometimes, moody, like something's bothering him, but never admits to anything when I ask him. And I know he's holding back."

I stepped in front of my full length mirror, swiveling so I could check my shape in the new jeans that had cost half of my paycheck. "I'm hot, Em. Why can't he lose control with me? I mean, I was like so all over him on the train on Sunday. My boobs in his face, my crotch on his, and he was able to stop on a dime. If I'd had my way, other passengers would have gotten a free show they'd never forget. Thank God no one else was around, because at that point, I didn't care. I was practically unconscious with desire. Had we not been speeding to Manhattan, maybe we wouldn't have stopped. Who knows."

"So, you want him to jump you?"

"No ... yes. I just want to know why he's not. We get almost there, and he stops, like it's as easy as closing a book. I've never known another guy who could do that without coming in his pants."

"So the guy's got great self control. Can't fault him for that. Besides," she giggled, "you wouldn't want a guy who lost his load in his jeans, would you?"

A hand over my mouth, I burst out laughing, then with a tissue, blotted the lipstick I knew would have to be reapplied after my session with Em.

After we finished clowning, Emma straightened her back and slipped into analyst mode. "It's one of two things. He's not ready to settle down, obviously, since he's got years of training ahead of him, and if you two consummate the relationship now ... it could be the nail in his coffin, leading to marriage, or at least a binding commitment while he's still a resident, which I doubt he'd want to do. He seems level headed and secure in how he sees his future."

"Not a bad concept. What's the other option?"

"He's into Vanessa, and for some reason can't be with her, but he doesn't want to hurt you. Maybe he can't decide what he wants, if he even wants anything."

My eyes bulged. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe he doesn't see you as a long termer, you know?"

"Oh my God, you're harsh! And to bring Vanessa into this? Are you serious?"

She sighed. "Just being realistic, Jewel. I don't want to see you get hurt. You're an adult for Pete’s sake. Why wouldn't you have sex with a guy you're dating? Why would he be treating you like a virgin?"

"I told you. I don't want to fall off the cliff and hopelessly in love with him, and he respects me." I closed my eyes for a long blink. "Maybe you're right. He's not ready for commitment. He's honorable, so screwing me would mean he'd be tied to me ..."

Emma shook her head. "Something else to consider, Jewel."

"Haven't you already ruined my night?"

"I don't know if this is such a good idea, anyway. If your relationship does work out, you'll be in your thirties, and he'll be in his forties someday ..."

"Holy shit, Em. What's the difference? So he's like six or seven years older than me? That's shit in a bucket."

"It may not matter now, but as the years pile up, it could become a problem. Like when you're in your sixties and he's in his seventies. Make sure he stays in good shape and brings home plenty of Viagra."

I threw one of my bed pillows at her head. "You're kidding, I hope."

"I am. I don't want to send you off in a bad mood. Figured I'd lighten the moment."

"Lighten the moment? You just painted a horrendous picture in my head. I don't want to be old! My life hasn't even started yet. Now I'm gonna be giggling to myself all night, visualizing Indigo as a cranky old man with a drooping dick ... oh my God, ever wonder what we'll be like? All wrinkly and saggy?" I cupped my breasts, testing their bounce.

"That'll never happen. We do Yoga." Emma pruned her face and held up a hand. "I shouldn't talk about patients, but since you don't know any of mine, listen to this." Emma pulled me down beside her. "This guy was falling apart for similar reasons as what you're describing."

"Oh great. A reverse situation? So what happened?"

"This girl seemed to like him a lot but wouldn't commit. And there was someone like a male Vanessa in their history. It turned out, not only did the bitch break his heart but, ohhh, she broke it bad. She left him at the altar and took off with the other guy."

"The male Vanessa?"

"Ah ha." Emma's nod was virtuous.

"Thank you very much. You should write a self help column in the daily paper. Dear Emma. Want to go off the deep end? Contact Emma Kim. She'll walk you to the edge and even give you a push." I grabbed my satchel and checked inside for all my necessities, then spread on another coat of glossy plum lipstick and smacked my lips. "Speaking of the edge. What's up with you and Arkana?"

A dreamy look controlled Em's face. She rolled her eyes and smiled so Cheshire, I almost reached out to pet her.

"RSVP not needed. I can see by the look on your mug. You're desperately in love, happy, and secure." I drew a dramatic breath and blew it out.

"Billy's everything I've always wanted in a man." The yowl she emitted made me jump off the bed. My heart actually tripped. "I'm going to Texas to meet his family soon."

I threw my arms around her. "Oooh. I'm so happy for you!"

My cell chimed.

Indigo: I'm downstairs

Me: Be right down

I headed for my room.

“Wishful thinking,” Emma laughed, “but you’re going the wrong way.”

“When I take him to bed, it won’t be here." I smirked. "I almost forgot the children’s books I bought at Casey’s library sale. I can’t wait to show them to Indigo.”

“You waited long enough to give them to him.”

“I had to read them first.” I laughed. “Gotta run, Em. Don’t wait up for me.” On the way out the door, I winked.

I
flew down the stairs to meet Indigo, bypassing the elevator, as my stomach was already in my throat. The Wrangler was double parked, with a grinning Indigo inside, dressed in green scrubs, forearms resting on the steering wheel. His face was framed by the open passenger window. I felt his stare follow as I neared. Mindful to not overwork my moves, my hips swayed just enough to entice.

Reaching across the seat he swung the door open, looking so cute, so sexy, so happy to see me. "Hey ..." his voice was effortless.

A day at the hospital had done nothing to subdue his charm.
Dear Lord, he's gorgeous
, everything inside me screamed. Then my stomach spazzed. With the way he made me feel, how was I going to keep my hands off him? Easy ... I wasn't. My emotions were in turmoil. This guy was turning me into a drooling contradiction! Get a grip, girl!

I poked my head in and flashed an adorable smile. I tossed the shopping bag into the back of the car, then my body slithered gracefully onto the seat. "Hi, babe," I said, running my hand along the side of his bristly cheek, up into his tousled hair, my gaze glued to his.

"Hey, baby." With the interior lights still on, his eyes flicked over me before our bodies touched. His lips were soft, his kiss minty. "You look terrific, as always. What's in the bag? You plan on staying over?" He grinned.

"That's an invitation I might take you up on sometime ... but not tonight." I smiled. "I picked up some books at Casey's library sale a while back. I thought you might use them in your office."

He reached over the seat and rummaged through the bag, bringing up a glossy book covered with bunny rabbits and bright green clover. "Oh honey. These are great." He pulled me in for a kiss. "How thoughtful of you." His eyes shined. "Not sure when I'll have an office, but I bet the kids in the hospital would love these. Mind if I take them there?"

"Sure. Kids are kids, regardless of where they are. I hope they like them."

"They'll love them." His brows rounded. "So will the volunteers who read them." Chuckling, he put the book back into the bag. "Are you hungry?"

"For you." My voice was seductive when I squeezed his thigh.

His laugh sounded nervous. "What would you like to eat? Other than my lap."

We both laughed at his gaff. Before clearing his throat, he blushed.

"Italian okay with you? I could be coerced into Penne A La Vodka." My smile was bright. I had to push the earlier conversation with Emma out of my head. I made a mental note to hide her yogurt when I got home. I had to get even with her for planting evil seeds, vowing to never let them take root.

"How was your day, sweetie?" I sat angled in the seat so I could watch his every expression. As he drove, my eyes dragged over him. "Slow day? I don't see any blood on your scrubs."

"You're insane, you know that?" Chuckling, he shook his head. "I spent the entire day in geriatrics, reading charts and diagnosing."

I imagined his job wasn't the easiest. Watching the sick recover would be exhilarating, but watching people die had to be horrendous. How did one leave
that
kind of work at the office? I was happy I could make him laugh.

"Hey. I finally get to see where you live," I chirped.

"It's comfortable," he said as he turned into the entrance to the parking garage, "and convenient."

"You have parking?" I was astounded. Only high class buildings had ground level parking.

"Yep. And a storage locker where I keep my bikes."

"As in bicycles?"

"Yes, and Triumph."

"Ritzy, huh?"

"A place to call home." He edged into a numbered space and cut the engine. Leaving the keys dangling, he reached across the seat and pulled me over the console for a kiss that made me quiver. "I've been waiting for that all week." His fingers ran through the side of my hair, tucked a lock behind my ear.

"You have, have you?" I ran my tongue around his lips, teasing, then drew back and gazed at him. "Is this up to your expectations?"

"Absolutely ... and yes, I've been dying to kiss you, my little tamale." He ran his hand down my arm, straight to my thigh which he caressed. "I enjoyed the entire day in Poughkeepsie, especially the train ride home." He tweaked the tip of my nose.

I was speechless. He had a way about him. Regardless of the subject matter, his words sounded hot as hell.

"Let's get going so I can get out of these clothes and take you out for a fantastic Italian meal ... and much needed downtime." He blew a kiss into my ear.

We walked hand in hand to the elevator, kissed after the door closed, our lips parting only when the door slid open on the fifth floor. Stopping at apartment number five-ten, Indigo unlocked the door and pushed it open. The hardwood foyer gleamed. To the right was a wall rack where a lightweight jacket and hooded sweatshirt hung on pegs beneath a polished shelf. On the floor below it was a shoe rack, clutching a pair of running shoes and the hiking boots he'd worn on Sunday. He obviously didn't walk on his white carpet with shoes, so I kicked off my heeled boots before entering.

Indigo emptied his pockets and set his wallet and keys onto a sofa table backed against a sprawling sectional, careful to protect the finish on the shining cherry wood.

"Ready for the grand tour?" He took my arm.

"I've been dying to see your apartment." Excited, I squeezed his hand and stretched my neck to peek down the hall.

His fingertips brushed my cheek, then he grabbed my hand. "Come on, beautiful." He tugged and I followed.

We bypassed the kitchen, walking directly down the hardwood hallway. I noticed a telephone receiver fastened near a doorframe. "Odd place for a phone," I commented.

"That's the intercom. They put it there so you can hear it from any room ... supposedly." He rolled his eyes. "Not always true. I've slept through it."

"Mine's just a speaker mounted inside the wall." I scrunched my bottom lip.

"Come on, silly." He drew both of my arms around his waist, towing me close behind him, the tips of my toes stubbing the heels of his feet.

To the left was a spacious bathroom, and on the right a huge bedroom. The walls were all white, the furniture finished in black lacquer.

"It's stunning, Jimmy. Talk about clean freak. It's spotless."

He sighed. "The maid comes twice a week."

I stared up at him, eyebrows raised, mouth slack.

He chuckled and pulled me into his arms. "Kidding, babe. I make the mess. I clean it. But I'm here mainly to sleep."

"Nice." I motioned to his king sized bed, covered by a blue tailored spread and matching shams. "Even a sliding glass door to a terrace," I said appreciatively.

"Yeah, it's great in the summer, even if our city air's not entirely pulmonarily friendly."

"Is that a real word?" I squinted.

"I think I just made up the usage." He laughed, and pulled me back down the hallway. "And here is my rarely functioning kitchen."

The appliances were gleaming stainless steel. Even the sink. There was no table, but a half wall served as an island, dividing the spacious room into dining and living room.

"It's enormous," marveling, I said. "And luxurious. I had no idea you could get an apartment like this in our area." Struck with the sudden concept of expense, my eyes widened. "No less afford it."

"Yeah. The rent's not too bad, though. How about a glass of wine ... or a mixed drink?"

What he considered not too bad would have been a year's salary for me.

"Ah ah. I'm fine." I reached up and locked my fingers around his neck, covering his lips with mine. After breaking for air, I murmured, "Now that's a proper hello kiss."

With a mind of their own, my hips tucked into his, moving as if on the dance floor, rocking with a deliberate rhythm.

His hands tightened around my waist. I brought my face up, gazed into his gray eyes that looked like the sky on a cloudy day. An
mmm
sound erupted deep in his throat. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted me onto the counter. I slung my legs around his hips and squeezed.

"What you do to me should be illegal." His breath hit my ear. "At this rate, I'll never get into the shower. And you won't have your Penne A La Vodka."

"Who needs food. You taste better than anything I've ever had the pleasure of ..."

"Baby," he whispered. "Be careful. We're alone up here on the almost deserted fifth floor."

He sounded different, ultra confident, bolder. Had he been planning this? Would tonight be a continuation of Sunday on the train? The thought was staggering.

This was it. The time had come. It felt so good, so right; I knew what I wanted to do.

His hands were beneath me, stroking, clenching. My legs tightened, drawing him closer. I took his hands in mine and brought them to my face, kissing his fingers, smoothing his palms down my neck, to my breasts, where I held them firmly in place.

"How about that shower?" My voice was not my own.

"Baby, are you sure?" His brows tugged together. "This isn't why I brought you here."

For a split second I focused across the room, at a porcelain vase wrapped with long tangled stems, a disarray of petals running up, down and around, like my emotions. Then my eyes returned to his.

"I've never been so sure about anything in my life, Jimmy. I've never felt this way before."

I rested my forehead against his chest, my head sliding back and forth, praying I was making the right decision. I was entering another dimension, and there was no turning back. The muscles in my stomach tightened, struggling with an onslaught of frenzy.

His chin brushed my hair, rested lightly on the top of my head, then his moist lips moved to my ear. He pulled me to my feet, and I stood before him, swallowing hard, closing my eyes, waiting.

I felt my sweater being lifted up and over my head; my electrified hair smoothed back into place. His palms skimmed the silky cups of my bra, then his hands slipped behind me and unhooked the band, peeling down the straps. His breath increased, and I imagined his surging heart rate, which couldn't have possibly exceeded mine. He whispered, "Tell me now if you want me to stop."

"No ... don't stop."

His touch was gentle, but determined. His lips kept brushing my face, my mouth, my neck. "Are you sure?"

"Yes ..."

My back hit the edge of the center island at the same time my elbows landed on the polished surface, bracing my buckling legs. He lifted my face, his thumb sliding across my trembling bottom lip, which he kissed until the warmth of his mouth calmed my shudder.

I watched his eyes glaze, then focus on my breasts, scorching my skin without even so much as a touch. My heart hammered inside my chest, which rose and fell as I fought for air. Each moment I stood before him was like an eternity filled with thousands of electrifying fingertips sweeping across my bare skin.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured when his gaze reached my face – gauging my reaction as the tips of his fingers strummed my swollen nipples, torturing me with the lightest touch, until every muscle in my body went limp, and I could handle no more. Fighting for consciousness, I lowered my lids, threw back my head and gasped as the air around me thinned.

When his hands clasped my breasts, the room began to spin. I sank against his chest, felt my body being lifted, laid out on the countertop. For a moment I held my breath, then let my limbs relax, my head fall to the side. His touch was easy, yet assertive ... and very persuasive.

I clung to him, my fingers threading through his hair. Dragging his face against mine, I whispered nonsense into his ear. Heard the unzipping of my jeans, felt the softness of his hands as his fingers dribbled like melted butter down my belly. Finally reaching the ache between my thighs, his hand cupped, his fingers grazed, enlivening sensitive nerve endings I never knew existed. He knew exactly where to touch, how to touch. I was in another dimension, floating in a semiconscious state, where all my body felt were frenzied fingertips ... hungry lips, and the rush of blood exploding in my head.

As I squirmed, my breasts slid across the fabric of his shirt, exciting my tingling nipples beyond comprehension. I spaced – my body reacting on its own, rearing up, never settling.

My jeans were pulled to my ankles. His fingers circled the moisture between my thighs, while his palm coasted rhythmically. The throbbing sensation almost unbearable, I strained against him ... longing to bury him inside me.

"Oh God," arching my back, I screamed, "Jimmy ..."

"Ssh," he whispered. "Someone will think you're being attacked." He pressed my right palm over my lips, the left across my breasts. The heat in his eyes was so intense, I thought he'd mount me. But instead, he kissed his way down my body, lifted my hips and lowered his head. His moist lips nibbled, his tongue lashed, sending jolts of agonizing pleasure through my insides, manic signals to my brain. I arched my back:  I bucked, I gripped my swollen nipples, his head, unable to control the savagery of my moans. I lifted my knees, let them part, and pressed his face so fiercely, he might have smothered had my hips not braced for the onset of an explosive climax.