Now I want someone badly

Got a girl here tonight

Want someone new, someone new

But a little cry wants someone badly

Wanna know if this is a bad lease on me
I want to know

Am I sure that I heard you right I want to know

If you’re leaving just do it tonight

I Want Someone Badly – Jeff Buckley

Stopping abruptly in the middle of the street I punch at his shoulder. Turn around and face me, you lousy shit. He gives me a stern ‘don’t-push-me’ glare but I am working up a head of steam here. “What’s going on? What does your brother want with Ana?”

“I can’t answer that, Kate.” He sounds pretty pissed, but I’m moreso. Unfortunately for me he is stronger and his hand wraps around mine like a vice, as he all but drags me up the main street.  I’m not going to let this drop and I’m not going to let him get the better of me.  If he won’t answer my questions then I’m going back into the bar to confront Mr Christian ‘high-and-mighty’ Grey.  Unfortunately, to do that I have to get the neanderthal to let go of my arm so I use our momentum to swing around and stop him in his tracks.

“Well, if you aren’t going to answer my questions then I am going back inside to join my friends.” I wrench my hand out of his and turn back toward the bar. A win for me.  I am on my way with grim determination when the neanderthal’s giant mitt wraps around mine again and I find myself face to chest with him. It’s a very nice chest, a very muscular chest, a chest I would quite like to run my tongue over.  Stop it Kate!  I shift my eyes up to his face to see a dimpled smirk underneath a pair of baby blue eyes.  How can anyone be that damn gorgeous? Then he speaks.

“You don’t answer my questions either, angel.” Before I can argue the point with him he puts on the hand clamp again and begins stalking away from the one place I want to go.  We continue to weave between the parked cars, my Manolos making our progress very slow.  Well, that and the fact I am deliberately leaning backwards away from him in an ill-conceived attempt to slow him down. My heel catches in a crack in the ground and I stumble.  Instantly, his arms wrap around me preventing me from falling head first into the tarmac and his touch sends a spark of electricity through my body but it must be one-sided because he suddenly sweeps me up in his arms and throws me over his shoulder. My squeal is drowned by his laughter and he gently swats my backside with his hand. Oh jeez, I don’t want to like that! I smack his hands away.

“Back off you oaf. Put me down,” I snarl.  No seriously, snarl is about where it’s at for me right now.  I have never liked controlling men and I don’t appreciate being treated like his latest kill.  And just what the hell does he think he is doing? First he takes over my night, then he instructs me on how to behave while my roommate is abducted by his creepy overbearing brother, then he ends my evening with the equivalent of knocking me over the head and dragging me back to his man cave! He starts down the road at pace and my mood is thundering.”What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I’m not ready to go home. Put me down…right…now!”

“Oh, your night is so over, angel.” He doesn’t pause for a moment, even though I am pummeling his back with my fists. “I’m taking you home and you’re going to sleep off all that alcohol. Then in the morning you will calmly wait for my brother to return your roommate to you and you will see that he is not such a bad guy.”  Oopf!

“I… am… not… drunk!” I don’t want to take delight in the feel of his taut back under my flat hand as I attempt smack the crap out of him.  I suspect that my stinging slaps are more like annoying mosquito bites to him and that serves to piss me off more.  I continue on without taking a breath. “And I don’t need you telling me what to do. I know they’re at the Heathman and I swear, the moment you drop me off I will take myself down there and rescue her. Your brother is a control freak and a nutcase and he is right now taking advantage of a very drunk and innocent girl. And now I know where he gets it from!” I shout at him. My body is shaking with rage. How dare he do this? Fricking wolf in sheep’s clothing! That sweet carefree face hides the mind of a complete tyrant.

He laughs and continues down the street. The fucker laughs at me.  He fucking laughs at me!  Before I know it we arrive at my apartment which apparently is stalking distance to the bar. But how the hell did he know where I live?  His freakin’ stalker brother I bet.  He swings me down and places me carefully on the pavement.  I resist the temptation to kick him in the shin.  Or sink my heel into his foot.

“Goodnight, Katie. Thanks for the dance.” He smiles down at me and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. The way he is looking at me, I’m torn between kissing him and slapping him.  Taking the middle ground, I go with harnessing my anger.

“Oh, no you don’t. You get your arse inside that apartment. We are going to talk.” He looks like he’s going to argue then a light comes on at the neighbors place and he seems to think better of it. Running a hand through his hair he sighs and then turns towards my front door. Smart move, Grey.

Trying not to drunkenly fumble, I open the door with my key and let us in, switching on lights and dumping my bag and jacket as I go. I stalk straight to the kitchen and put the kettle on. “You want tea, coffee?”

I feel him walk in behind me, and without turning around I can tell he is taking up all the space in the room. “Tea is fine, thanks. Cups?” I point him at the cupboard and he starts to help himself. We move around the kitchen in synchronous motion which is quietly freaking me out.  You’d think he lives here and the more comfortable he seems, the more angry I become. I throw tea bags into the cups, he pours milk. We both pass on sugar. Cups in hand we move out to the dining table and sit.

“Now spill, Grey. What the hell is going on?” I ask. He blows on his tea before taking a big sip. I eyeball him over my cup. Don’t think for a moment that you are getting out of here without giving me an answer. Just for a second he looks like he might be about to make a stupid decision and then he sits back in his chair with a sigh.

“Look, I don’t know. Christian never dates and he certainly never tells me anything about his love life. Then this week he calls me and invites me up to Portland. We’re meant to go hiking but then he’s working all day, or so he says. Next thing I know he’s eliciting my help to rescue Ana tonight.” He hasn’t looked at me through this whole speech.  Instead his eyes focus on his beautiful hands drawing lazy circles around the rim of his cup and I am equally distracted by their progress before I register what he says.

Shit. “So this behavior is out of character? What made him think she needed saving?” I ask. I still think Christian Grey is a freakin’ stalker cos tonight has been just a little too surreal for my liking. Then it occurs to me what Elliot meant when he first spoke to me in the bar tonight. Shit, Christian’s stalking behavior is worrying him too.

“She called him. Drunk-dialled him.” He interrupts my thoughts and I look at him in surprise. He nods. “I don’t know what she said but he had us on the road so quick my head was spinning. Then he asked me to go into the bar and take care of you. Keep you out of the way and make sure you got home.” At least he has the decency to look guilty now and I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

“So you do anything your brother asks you?” An awful thought pops into my head at that moment. He was never going to sleep with me. All this attraction is one-sided and tonight was not about him and me at all.  Feeling just a little foolish now, Kavanagh? This was all about a favor for his brother and here I was planning a night between the sheets and the next twenty years of my life. How stupid can you get, Kate?

“Look, Katie, I would have come if you had asked me to.” Freakin’ mindreader. “Like I said, Christian never tells me anything about his love life and the fact that he would even vaguely want my help was…is too hard to resist.” He would have come over if I had asked? Well, I’m asking now. In fact, I am pretty much begging here. Sleep with me! Oh, shut up, Kavanagh, you stupid slut! It’s a struggle but I get my journalist head back in the game.

“But what do you think he wants with her? I mean, Ana’s one of those rare things in life, a nice girl, innocent. While he looks like he wants to tie her up to his bed, for godsake! He’s going to hurt her.”  I’m so caught up in my little speech that I almost missed the shocked look on his face. What? What did I say?

“Shit. I don’t know what he wants. He doesn’t do relationships; not the hearts and flowers kind anyway. And how do I know that Ana doesn’t just want him for his money? What makes you think he won’t get hurt by any of this?” You prick! He looks at me and I see the moment when he registers my anger. Yeah, stand back asshole, I’m gonna blow!

“Ana, is not a gold digger,” I spit out every syllable just in case he is too stupid to get my message. Every bone in my body wants to reach over and slap him into the middle of next week.  He keeps his eyes on mine and I expect him to look away first but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back and crosses his arms across his chest making those freakin’ biceps bulge.  He’s doing that on purpose, the fucker. I swallow down the saliva build-up in my mouth before I start drooling embarrassingly.  And then he all but signs his own death warrant by opening his stupid mouth.

“Oh, really? She’s been living off you for four years. She’ll continue to sponge off you in Seattle, won’t she? Isn’t that the plan?” WTF?

“How do you know that?” My voice is little more than a whisper of barely suppressed rage but if it had teeth it would have ripped his hand off. I’m not angry because he’s making a false accusation.  I’m angry because he’s right and not even Ana knows how right he is.  Ana lives here, she pays rent, utilities and food but she doesn’t know that it isn’t enough to cover even a third of our expenses. That’s never bothered me before. I have enough money to for both of us but she would never accept my charity, if she knew. Hell, my Dad doesn’t even know how much Ana pays to live here.

The big, stupidly gorgeous neanderthal drops those big stupidly gorgeous arms and smacks his freakishly beautiful hands down on his toned denim-clad thighs and for a change says nothing. He glances around the room with a guilty expression on his face.  Better run, fucker!

“How do you know that?” I ask again. After examining his hands for a moment he shifts and leans his elbows on the table, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair. The obvious tension in his body is nothing compared to the air between us right now. Knife-cuttingly good.

“Christian has a file on her.” My mouth drops open. Well, fuck me! “It’s not what you think. He’s a very rich and powerful man and a lot of people rely on him. He needs to be careful about who he associates with.  For his sake and theirs.” Sorry but even you can’t justify this crap, Elliot Grey.

I stand up, my body shaking. “So he does due diligence on his potential girlfriends? Jesus, what kind of pervert does that?  What the hell gives him the right to do that?” My voice is raising in both pitch and volume. Fuck the neighbors! I have never been so angry.

“Kate, look, I imagine this is upsetting but it isn’t unusual. Shit, your Dad is a businessman. How many people has he investigated over the years? Do you think that if he ever got wind of us, that he wouldn’t have me checked out?” He reaches over to touch my hands but I pull away, shaking him off.  He’s right, of course, but he has no right to be right.  Oh, jeez, now I have lost command of the English language.

“There… is… no… ‘us’.” Again, I emphasize every syllable, this time thrusting my finger into his chest with each word.  I’m pretty sure I’m trying to convince myself here.  “And what the hell has my father got to do with this?” I yell shoving him backwards with my hands. I’m furious and it seems to be making him nervous. Good.  He’s diverting me with talk of my father. This sneaky sex-God knows something and he is keeping it from me. My breath is coming hard and fast as I stare him down. Does he think he’s protecting his brother? And wouldn’t I do anything for my brother? For my family? For Ana?  The thought makes me frown. The more I think about his behavior, the more my drunken, tequila-soaked brain becomes convinced that Christian Grey has a big secret and his brother is here to protect his interests. Then my mind goes to a really dark place. Oh, hell, I’m simply collateral damage. I don’t know why I expected this to go any other way. It’s kind of depressing. Keeping my eyes clearly focused on his I repeat trying to convince myself, “There… is… no… us.”

He’s leaning back in the chair again, shaking his head, a small smile creeping on his face. “You don’t mean that Katie. You felt it as strong as I did. There is something here and you can’t deny it. I certainly have never felt like this before about anyone and I’m pretty sure you haven’t either.”

My eyes widen. “Don’t try to tell me what I feel.” I turn away from the table, hoping that if I break our eye contact I will be able to hold on to my anger.  Instead a bolt of lust  shoots through my body making my knees go weak.  It takes me a moment to get my equilibrium.  This bastard just accused my best friend of being a gold digger, he has defended his brother’s stalker tendencies, he is keeping some mammoth secret that might just cause Ana immeasurable pain and he has accused my father of investigating my lovers. What more could he say to insult me? And yet I still want him, with every fiber of my being. I want to be wrapped up in his body. In the next moment, I feel him move behind me and his hands slide onto my waist. He’s being careful with me and he damn well needs to be.

“Sweetheart, we can make this about them or we can make this about us. Right now I know what I want.” I turn around to face him with angry tears threatening. The anger may not be enough to make me cry but the alcohol sure is. Crying in front of anyone except my mom or Ana is a hard limit for me and I will be damned if I am going to cry in front him. But I do want him to feel bad.  Bad enough to tell me everything he is keeping from me about his brother. A little manipulation should work. So I look into his blue eyes and will the tears to come. He looks genuinely dismayed and he places his hands on my face gently kissing away the tears that up until this moment I thought I was forcing.  But his tenderness brings me undone and I actually start to cry for real.  Oh, this is bad. I don’t understand this at all. I’m Katherine Kavanagh, for heaven’s sake. I don’t weep and wail in front of men.  That behavior is reserved for the privacy of my apartment, in my pink flannel pjs with double chocolate fudge ice cream in hand. I am strong, beautiful, intelligent, rich and no blue collar neanderthal should be making me feel this way no matter how gorgeous he is!

But I can’t quite get my emotions under control and for the first time this evening I feel fear. Now, any rational, sober person would have felt fear being dragged out of the bar, and thrown over a strangers shoulders while being hauled up the street.  They certainly should feel fear inviting said stranger into their home when it is most likely that her flatmate won’t be home until morning. But no, not me.  Neither of those things are why I’m scared. My fear is that I am standing here at the mercy of emotions so tangible and real that I don’t trust them. My fear is about wanting to be bound up by this man and not let go. My love life is a string of temporary disappointments designed to make me eat my emotions and then purge them with even more meaningless sex. Men like to think they can conquer me and move on quickly and I am used to things being light and impermanent. a long time ago I learned to use men as much as they use me. But what I see in this man’s eyes looks like so much more than the desire for a meaningless fuck. It looks genuine and heartfelt. Much more dangerous than anything I have ever encountered before.

“You’re going to hurt me,” I whisper, my body trembling. Shaking his head, he kisses my eyes but I continue, “I don’t want you to hurt me.”

“Shit, Katie, I don’t want you to hurt me either. Listen, baby, I am not my brother and I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t know what this is but perhaps we can just go slowly and find out.” My resolve breaks and I really start to sob. He pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me, stroking my back and kissing my hair. No one ever gets to see me this vulnerable and this man has me at my worst. I feel like I am handing him a weapon. One that he could destroy me with. He moves us to the couch and I am in his lap crying uncontrollably. Stupid, stupid, drunk girl. This calms me a bit. It must be the alcohol and the stress of the last few weeks. Or the worry about my best friend.  Who are you trying to fool, Kavanagh? I’m crying now because he is holding me so gently. No man in my life has ever held me while I cry. I was trained to be strong, to show no fear, to be confident. This is not who I am and quite frankly, I’m scared shitless.

We sit like this for almost half an hour and finally, I get myself under control. He stands, lifting me straight up into his arms as if I weigh nothing more than a few pounds.

“Which way, princess?” I point him towards my room. Is this it? Is he finally going to sleep with me? I want him to stay but… God, I wanted hot messy no holds barred sex with him a few hours ago. Now I feel shy and insecure. He backs into my bedroom and swings me gently down to my feet. Looking around he spies, oh no, my pink pjs freshly laundered and folded on my bed. Not the pjs. He just smiles and picks them up. “OK, baby, let’s get you changed.”

Suddenly I am a child as he pulls the pins out of my hair and gently brushes it through with his hands. Instinctively, I reach up to touch his chest but he calmly grasps my hands and places them up in the air. He pulls my tank top off me. Slutty me went braless tonight hoping to pick up and now I wait for him to touch my breasts. I long for him to touch my breasts. With a wistful look he runs a finger down the center of my chest, making my breath hitch before he turns to the pajamas and picks up the top.

“Arms up.” I do as he asks with a petulant look and he laughs. Neanderthal man is laughing at me again and I feel mortified. He slides the pink flannel top down over my arms and body like he is dressing a small child. Then he sits on my bed and reaches up pulling me toward him by the waist of my jeans.  His hands smooth down my legs making me tremble with desire. Hot moisture pools at the juncture of my thighs and I know he knows.  I want him to touch me there but he continues down to my ankles, picking up one foot and removing my high heel. Then he removes the other one and places them carefully under the bed. Returning his hands to behind my knees he slides them up over my ass and I feel myself wantonly thrusting towards his head willing him to bury his face in my crotch.  Not subtle, Kate. But subtle has skipped off down the road with common sense leaving me alone with wanton hussy.  Instead of taking me up on my blatant offer, he places a chaste kiss on my stomach as he undoes my jeans and slides them down over my hips. Masking my disappointment, I step out of them allowing him to pick them up and throw them over to the chair in the corner of my room.  Then he looks up at me with a smile.

“Just so we are absolutely clear, I really want to make love to you, angel, but I am not going to take advantage of you while you’re still drunk.” His are focused on mine with so much heat that I feel like I might just combust. Then his hands move back to my hips.  “I’m going to take your panties off now but I want you to know that it is going to take all my control not to touch you.” I nod mutely, feeling a mixture of disappointment and arousal. He does exactly as he says then reaches for my pj bottoms and helps me to step into each leg before pulling them up to my waist. He plants another gentle kiss on my stomach and I want him so much it hurts.

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage,” I whisper, “I want you too.” He smiles and then turns me around to face the door.

“Be a good girl and go do your teeth.” He pats me on the bottom and pushes me towards the door. Obediently, I go into the bathroom and he follows me a moment later. Looking at me in the mirror he reaches past my shoulder to the pack of make-up wipes on the shelf and removes one. I finish my teeth and he turns me around, picking me up and placing me on the bathroom vanity.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers. I do, and he very gently starts to clean my make up off, cupping my chin with his other hand. When he is finished he places the wipe into the trash before kissing my face, my eyes, my forehead, my nose, my cheeks.  Finally he runs a lazy tongue along my jaw to my ear and finished with a gentle suck on my earlobe. My body aches with need and I can’t stop a moan escaping my lips. No one has ever been this sensual, this gentle with me. I am lost in a sea of sensation.

Finally he pulls away, lifts me down and takes my hand, leading me back to my room. The covers have been pulled back and he indicates for me to get in. Replacing the covers he sits on the side of the bed stroking my hair. I am so confused.

“I don’t understand this. Why don’t you want me? I want you.” I feel like a child. Maybe that’s it, maybe it’s the age difference between us.  He must be what 7, 8 years older than me? I frown as I try to remember what I have read about him.

With a sigh, he closes his eyes for a brief moment. “Katie, I want you more than I want air right now but you have to decide what you want and you need to be sober when you do. I’m no idiot. I know you’re a journalist. You know my reputation.” What does he mean?  “But if we do this, I promise you, there will be no one else.  For either of us. There will be no more drunken nights flirting with guys in bars and leading them on.” I know my mouth is hanging open right now. I am pretty sure I am blushing furiously too. Certainly my heart is racing and my breathing is shallow.  Crap, could this man get any more desirable.  I want to eat him.  He chuckles. “Yeah, I know about you too, Miss Kavanagh.”

“How do you know about me?” Surely, his stalker brother hasn’t had people following me around bars?

“Katie, I know your type, hell, I probably know some of your friends.” Fuck! There’s a passion-killing thought! “Yeah, sorry babe, can’t change the past.  I might have been there and I know you don’t believe me right now but I’m old enough to know this is different. You are different.  This thing between us is…real.  It may not last but it will be intense and emotional and we may both get burned. We have to go into this with our eyes open and I am not going to take you there until I am sure you are making this decision with a clear head because once I take you there will be no going back.”

My brain has stalled.  Completely.  Not only has he stolen my breath but he has stolen any semblance of rational thought. Is this man for real? Nobody starts a relationship like this, do they? There is no such thing as love at first sight. Is that what he is saying? That he is in love with me? I have laughed and kicked guys to the curb for presuming less than this. What makes him so special? I know he is waiting for me to respond but I don’t know quite how to respond.

“I better go.” He looks sad and goes to stand up. My arm shoots out and I grab his hand instinctively.

“I don’t want you to go.” He looks hopeful for a moment but then he must see the doubt in my eyes and shakes his head. “No, I am not saying I want forever. But I don’t want to be alone right now. Can you please stay? At least until I go to sleep?” My inner child is back again and I think I must sound as petulant and spoilt as I feel. Without another word, he turns and walks out the door leaving me to die of embarrassment.  I just might have let my Mr Perfect walk out the door.   The tears are threatening again and I am just about to throw back the covers and run after him when he walks back in the room. He has a glass of water in his hand and some Advil that he places on my bedside table. He doesn’t speak as he walks around the bed and starts to remove his jacket, his shoes and socks, his belt, keys, phone and wallet before turning off the light. Without lifting the duvet he lies on my bed and wraps his arm around me, manouvering my body until we are spooning. I wipe the moisture from my eyes before placing my small hands over his beautiful large ones.  He’s warm and tender and my heart is tempted to leap.

“Thank you.” I whisper into the dark.  I feel his lips on my hair.

“Goodnight, angel.”