expectations he wasn’t even aware I had.
God, I’m so stupid!
I berate myself all the way to the apartment, feeling further disappointed by the curious absence of the Ebon Daniels drug high that normally carries me home. I wander around for over an hour, aimlessly replaying the events of the last week, until I’m so restless the only thing I know to do is go write. Get it out and onto paper where maybe it will no longer haunt me.
Only it does. It still preys on my mind. I think it always will.
I hear the generic jingle of a cell phone coming from Sage’s room. It takes me a second to realize what it is.
It’s the new phone.
The one that only Ebon has the number to.
I get up so fast that my chair tips over. I don’t bother to straighten it; I just race into the next room and fling myself across the bed to reach the night table—and the phone—on the other side.
“Hello?” I answer, not bothering to check the caller ID.
“Sage? Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was just, um, I was just exercising.”
“Are you off today?”
Shit, shit, shit!
“No, I just finished up early, so I left. I’ve been putting in a ton of extra hours since I started, so…”
I cringe, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping that sounded truthful. Somewhere deep in the bottom of my soul, it bothers me that lies seem to be coming to me more quickly now. Considering what I’m involved in, that’s a good thing I suppose. A necessary thing even. But considering that I’ve always thought myself to be a decent human being, it’s quite a disappointment.
“Hmmm, so you’re free tonight, then?” he asks, something dark and sensual in his voice.
“Uhhhh,” I stammer, my brain refusing to function when he makes suggestive noises like that. “As a matter of fact I am.”
“Why don’t you come over then? I’ll get takeout and a bottle of wine, and I’ll tell you a little about what I’m working on.”
If possible, my interest perks up even more. “Working on?”
“Yep. I’ve been doing some writing. I figured you might like to hear my side of things.”
My heart thuds heavily in my chest and a deep ache starts in the lowest part of my belly. I wonder if that means…
“What time?”
“Eight?”
I do some mental calculating and decide that I can be in full Sage form by then. “Sounds good. Can I bring anything?”
“No, I’ve got everything you’ll need,” he says, his voice little more than a purr.
God, he’s sexy.
“Well, if you change your mind…”
“Oh, I won’t change my mind. There’s nothing I’d like more than to have you for dinner.”
Did he mean to phrase it that way? “I meant about me bringing something,” I clarify carefully, not sure how to take it.
“All you need to bring is your appetite. Just come hungry ,” he says slowly.
I don’t know if he means for everything he’s saying to sound so…evocative or if that’s just how I’m hearing it. Either way, I find myself biting back a moan.
“I won’t...eat anything until I get there then.”
“Mmmm, the thought of you…eating all by yourself makes me even hungrier.” His voice is a low growl, rumbly and hoarse. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine him lounging on a bed with his palm over his crotch, rubbing back and forth over his zipper. All the while thinking of me.
“You want to watch me…eat?” I’m breathless. From a simple phone conversation.
“God, yes!”
“Maybe one of these days we can watch each other…eat. Would you like that?” My comment, even my voice surprises me. Who the hell am I turning into?
“Fuuuck,” he moans, the air hissing through his teeth, like he’s clenching his jaw. “That’s going to happen. I promise you.”
I smile. I’m more turned on than I ever thought I could be from a telephone call, but I’m also profoundly pleased at the same time. Pleased with my performance. If it even is a performance. In some ways, I just feel like I’m letting the real me, the
God, I’m so stupid!
I berate myself all the way to the apartment, feeling further disappointed by the curious absence of the Ebon Daniels drug high that normally carries me home. I wander around for over an hour, aimlessly replaying the events of the last week, until I’m so restless the only thing I know to do is go write. Get it out and onto paper where maybe it will no longer haunt me.
Only it does. It still preys on my mind. I think it always will.
I hear the generic jingle of a cell phone coming from Sage’s room. It takes me a second to realize what it is.
It’s the new phone.
The one that only Ebon has the number to.
I get up so fast that my chair tips over. I don’t bother to straighten it; I just race into the next room and fling myself across the bed to reach the night table—and the phone—on the other side.
“Hello?” I answer, not bothering to check the caller ID.
“Sage? Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I was just, um, I was just exercising.”
“Are you off today?”
Shit, shit, shit!
“No, I just finished up early, so I left. I’ve been putting in a ton of extra hours since I started, so…”
I cringe, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping that sounded truthful. Somewhere deep in the bottom of my soul, it bothers me that lies seem to be coming to me more quickly now. Considering what I’m involved in, that’s a good thing I suppose. A necessary thing even. But considering that I’ve always thought myself to be a decent human being, it’s quite a disappointment.
“Hmmm, so you’re free tonight, then?” he asks, something dark and sensual in his voice.
“Uhhhh,” I stammer, my brain refusing to function when he makes suggestive noises like that. “As a matter of fact I am.”
“Why don’t you come over then? I’ll get takeout and a bottle of wine, and I’ll tell you a little about what I’m working on.”
If possible, my interest perks up even more. “Working on?”
“Yep. I’ve been doing some writing. I figured you might like to hear my side of things.”
My heart thuds heavily in my chest and a deep ache starts in the lowest part of my belly. I wonder if that means…
“What time?”
“Eight?”
I do some mental calculating and decide that I can be in full Sage form by then. “Sounds good. Can I bring anything?”
“No, I’ve got everything you’ll need,” he says, his voice little more than a purr.
God, he’s sexy.
“Well, if you change your mind…”
“Oh, I won’t change my mind. There’s nothing I’d like more than to have you for dinner.”
Did he mean to phrase it that way? “I meant about me bringing something,” I clarify carefully, not sure how to take it.
“All you need to bring is your appetite. Just come hungry ,” he says slowly.
I don’t know if he means for everything he’s saying to sound so…evocative or if that’s just how I’m hearing it. Either way, I find myself biting back a moan.
“I won’t...eat anything until I get there then.”
“Mmmm, the thought of you…eating all by yourself makes me even hungrier.” His voice is a low growl, rumbly and hoarse. If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine him lounging on a bed with his palm over his crotch, rubbing back and forth over his zipper. All the while thinking of me.
“You want to watch me…eat?” I’m breathless. From a simple phone conversation.
“God, yes!”
“Maybe one of these days we can watch each other…eat. Would you like that?” My comment, even my voice surprises me. Who the hell am I turning into?
“Fuuuck,” he moans, the air hissing through his teeth, like he’s clenching his jaw. “That’s going to happen. I promise you.”
I smile. I’m more turned on than I ever thought I could be from a telephone call, but I’m also profoundly pleased at the same time. Pleased with my performance. If it even is a performance. In some ways, I just feel like I’m letting the real me, the
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