One moment I'm enthralled by his blank stare, the next I'm gathering all my inner strength not to gasp when his hands return to my waist to spin me around. When I thought it couldn't get any worse, I'm pinned against the pool wall, wet and breathing through my mouth. It takes me a minute to notice his bare chest is glued to me, rising up and down at the same tempo as mine. I feel myself flush everywhere, my limbs weakening like popsicles in the sun.
This is what his skin feels like against mine… I relish on this little taste of heaven. My entire body never ceases to be made of a never-ending flow of electric charges whenever I'm near him. And he's the conducting wire, leading us wherever he wishes.
I watch the moment he parts his lips to speak, but he doesn't pull away or lean in whatsoever. He stands very still, his cautious eyes resembling a hawk's.
"Is there anything else you want to know?"
Wow, he's so giving tonight…
I rummage my dazed mind for the scattered notes belonging to the list I made in a sleepless night titled "Things I wish I knew about Bass". But in the heat of the moment my brain freezes. I cannot think of anything, and the list wasn't properly short.
Begging my heart to still, I bring myself to the here and now. Right now, if I could ask him anything, what would it be?
Only one thing occurs to me. Something so basic, yet so meaningful.
"What's your name?"
"Charles Bass." He says.
I gasp at his promptness.
Charles Bass… What a distinct name – fitted for a billionaire. With a name like that it's no wonder he's accomplished great things thus far in his life.
His brisk dive interrupts my thoughts on his name, and I wanted to dwell on how it makes me feel. He finally has a name and, although it changes nothing, everything changes.
Charles crawls in Olympic-swimmer expertize to the other end of the pool. I recoil in the warmth of the water when I realize I'm shivering now. Again. In his absence I get so aware of things.
"If I knew this would be your reaction I would've made you guess."
"Why do you say that?"
He tilts his head, offering me a crooked smile as he braces himself on the porcelain threshold.
"You look displeased."
Is my face acting against my will or did my moment of silent processing gave him that impression? Maybe it was for the better. I would've never guessed such a perfect name. It's rare, it's manly… It sounds like vintage mythological poetry.
"Not at all. I'm just attaching it to you."
"Is it hard?"
"No." I shake my head. "It fits perfectly."
Another deep breath and he submerges right before my eyes. This time he stops in the middle of the pool, as if something happened; as if something is troubling him. When he turns around, with a waterfall melodically gushing down his hair, to his shoulders and sliding down the smooth arch of his back, his expression surprises me.
From across the pool I spot his subtle smirk. It bathes me in an effusive warmth right away, as if he's standing right before me. I part my lips, not sure if to help me breathe or if I have something to say. And then, against my will and conscience, I'm moving closer, aided by the wind that's on a quest to blow my hair into my face.
His malicious expression fades when I approach him, and his eyes gain back that hypnotizing deep blue spark.
"What do you want, Blair?" Charles asks, his thumb tracing the outline of my lower lip oh-so-suddenly. My heart clenches, then resumes beating just a bit more effervescently.
Although I should've learned from the past, my body knows all too well what to anticipate; what is just bound to happen. It hopes, blindly and far stronger than me, it might just happen again. At last.
I won't deny it. If there's one thing I know right now is my deepest desire for his kiss. He treats it like it's one of the rarest things in the world and should only be offered occasionally, at the right moment. I know I have no means to afford it, only hope his feelings for me are enough to grant me such scrumptious, plush delight. Ever since our lips met I have longed to get familiar with his skillful and ravishing mouth…
Just one more kiss and I'll kill this flaring craving, even if that's all I'll ever get from him.
His fingertips travel to my waist, underwater, roaming leisurely until his hand encloses at my sides. I'm instantly lost in his face. I don't think I've seen it from up close long enough to study it properly – his fair skin glows under a perfect full moon, his indigo eyes are sparkling with the beaming reflection of a starry sky, and his lips… God help me. They're parted too, still glistening from the lingering touch of the water. So inviting…
I tilt my head to their encounter, telling him without a word what I so desperately want. I know he can easily figure it out. I've wanted nothing but that ever since my eyes landed on that delicious mouth.
Sensing my compliance, he smiles and holds my chin with the edge of his thumb. His gentle touch is enough to send jolts of electricity throughout my entire body. And underwater it's magnified, unlike gravity – high voltage.
All this time I've been calling him Mr. Bass because I knew not another way to address him. But now that I get to call him by his name, it feels more intimate of an act than being in a swimming pool with him, in my underwear only. And I won't hold back now.
"I want you to kiss me, Charles."
As soon as I utter his name, his glazed eyes wake up from its trance. And that's the last thing I see before his lips attack mine.
I don't see a day in the future where I'll grow tired or accustomed to the feeling of his mouth on mine. Two kisses in one night… This feels like the first and far from being the last. And the fact that, although it seems like it, this night isn't a vivid dream is simply too much to wrap my head around.
He kisses me with such fervor it's almost palpable, igniting my every cell and weakening my every limb at the same time. Fighting against the jelly, weary feeling taking over my arms, I wrap them around his neck. And they relocate there - pushing him closer and keeping me from tumbling down -, hooked for dear life.
When our lips part – only a mere second to help us catch our loud, struggling breaths – one of his hands skims down my lower back. I gasp against his mouth when I feel him take ownership of my ass. I try to stir away from the sudden invasion, when he presses our lower bodies together and I feel a foreign warmth building up at my front.
An embarrassing, choking sound echoes in my throat as I realize which part of him I'm touching, and how it's growing stiffer every second. Oh, God… This is wrong. So wrong. But then the warmth I can now locate is between my legs won't disappear. In fact, it is rocketing to an unbearable degree with everything he does.
I'm hot all over, and even the water around us seemed to have gone up a few degrees. Needing any sort of relief, I push him further against my mouth. He groans as he takes a sneaky bite at my lower lip. But the act does nothing to cure this strange, exasperating desire. This has to go somewhere or I won't be able to walk again. I don't know where, but it has to.
This is the wine… I tell myself. It has to be.
With each kiss his skilled mouth becomes more slippery, more desperate. It's sinful and heavenly. It's enough to steal my breath away for the rest of my life.
I'm completely disoriented when he stops himself from devouring my lips for the… ninth time?
"I'm sorry." He murmurs, his lips rosy and gleaming.
For a moment, it felt like the entire world had slipped away. And finding it right where I left it for what it seems like ten years is like waking up again.
Only when he places both hands on my shoulders to signal the distance between us now, I realize what's going on; what he's doing.
What?!
"Why?" I try not to whimper, but I fail roundly.
His forehead creases with sudden anguish. Does he think he hurt me? Even if he did, I couldn't care less. No, no… This can't stop. Not when I'm physically aching for him.
"I took things too far. This should've never happened. I'm sorry."
He can't flee again… Not now. Not like this…
But he does, leaving behind only a harsher breeze and the cooling aftermath of his devastating invasion. Fuck…
Fallen from grace and deprived of any sense of shame to begin to feel it, I grab my scattered clothes and pace back inside his suite. Soaking wet. My eyes scan the living room, my ears peeled for any trace of his existence, but he's nowhere to be found. The air is warmer here, I'm sure due to the A.C, but still I'm at the edge of shivering with my clothes piled in my arms and my feet bare on the hardwood floor.
Now what? I feel like I've seen this film too many times before, yet I never learn. Regardless of how many sad endings I've seen, I can't seem to lose hope that one time things will make a turn. That he won't make a turn. Why can't I just swallow down my feelings for him and never come running back to him or allow things to escalate to this degree? But I know they're like the lump swelling on my throat – annoying and seemingly everlasting.
I took things too far… His words play back in my mind as I head for the sectional couch. If only he did. He took things exactly where they needed to be, then withdrew, like stealing candy from a child.
Accepting my fate of only ever getting a taste and nothing more, I sit down.
There's a cabinet full of delicate china I'm sure he's never even touched, a discreet rack filled with art and history books… The Art of Seduction, I spot at the left corner. My eyes widen with wonder. Bass reading self-help books… Now that's unexpected, for someone who seems so confident in his own skin. Is this just like the expensive china or has he been putting in practice all those tricks? With me…?
Despite the intrigue, my eyes seem to be held captive to his grand piano.
I wonder if he plays or just keeps it as part of the décor, as well. Rich people seem to have a ton of stuff they don't use around the house.
Discarding my clothes on a tiny fraction of the couch, I approach the piano. I've always dreamed of learning how to play, although I'm sure I'd be as great as Elizabeth Bennet herself. Maybe he could teach me – teach me how to play the most surprisingly beautiful key, then let it fade away.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I think my next move through.
This feels so intimate, being in his place – let into his world… Then why do I feel like an unwanted guest? Discarded in a corner like every time before. He says he wants me, shows me how much, then something drives him away, as if compelled by a greater force. The most obvious reason is that he has a girlfriend. But he has denied that fact and, as dumb of me as it might be, I'll choose to believe him.
When I glance at my watch I nearly gasp. It's past 1 A.M. Dang… That explains why I'm feeling so sleepy all of a sudden. Defying my pride, I lean back against the firm, soft cushion. I should go before I fall asleep, I remind myself. But my body is embraced in a safe fluffy cloud, and he has my ticket back home, wherever he is.
After a long, eye-watering yawn, I come to the realization that I've been as guilty of this cat and mouse game as he's been.
So I'll stop running.
I clutch the pillowcase, trying to slide the pillow down before my head falls off. But it doesn't move. Groaning, I blindly search for it. If I open my eyes, it's game over for my blissful sleep. I can already taste the moodiness of waking up without enough hours of sleep, as if it's already settling in with a few grabbles.
A strong smell floats around me – it's food.
Why is Serena up already?
I know if I so little as open one eye to check the time, I'll have to be up whatever hours I find myself in. But the smell is fresh and delicious and… Shit, what if it's time for work?
Stretching my arm to reach my phone on the nightstand, I realize I'm not covered. Yet, I'm not cold to the slightest. And I don't feel the firm wood underneath my hand like I use to every day. There's just air.
What the hell?
The moment I open my eyes reality comes crashing down on a wave of surrealism.
I'm in Chicago. And Bass is sat right across the coffee table, watching me wake up in his couch after everything that happened last night. Holy shit… I retract, standing up at the speed of lightening.
Per usual, my cheeks are flushed, but he makes no comment on it whatsoever. He just stares at me, much like the most beautiful statue I've laid eyes on. Could he be mad that I crashed on his couch without permission? Well, he was the one who left with my ticket home. He didn't actually give me many choices.
"Good morning, Miss Waldorf."
I relish in the deep sound of his quiet voice, letting it absorb in the air around us. Hearing him first thing in the morning feels like a hallucination – one I could easily get addicted to.
Then, out of nowhere, something in my brain clicks and I burn twice as bright. I'm in my underwear. I'm in my freaking underwear! Only!
My body recoils, wanting this massive couch to cover it. But there's nowhere to hide – not even a freaking blanket –, and Bass is still very much staring.
"Good morning," I manage, a sneaky distraction to keep his eyes from straying down.
Too late now. As it seems, he's been watching me sleep for the last couple of minutes. And, although it was darker, it's not like he hasn't seen me like this last night.
A sly twist forms in the corner of his mouth, but it's gone as quickly as it arrived. And then he finally breaks composure, tapping his fingers over the spotless mirror.
"I got you something to eat before you fly back."
My eyes dart down and I realize I wasn't imagining everything, after all.
The clear glass coffee table before me is filled with every possible breakfast option – scrambled eggs, toasts, fresh fruit over yogurt, orange juice and two stainless steel kettles, which I assume carry hot water and coffee.
Whoa… You didn't have to do this for me, is what I would say if I wasn't speechless. I glance at Bass, sitting there like the most appetizing thing in the word, in his immaculate suit with the morning sun illuminating his freshly shaven face. When he scoots closer to me I can smell the nautical aftershave under his everyday fragrance. Hmm… My senses rejoice. He smells just like what I imagine one of those catalog models in Vogue to smell like – fresh, clean and insanely masculine.
"Did you order all this from room service?" I stutter, wide-eyed.
"Most of it, yes. The beverages are mine."
"You made them?"
"Boiling water and fetching tea bags isn't that tricky. But I made the coffee, yes. Although I'm not sure if it can compare to the brew at Sensations."
My eyes find an ensemble of Twinning's black teas perfectly arranged in a little basket. I pluck out one of the blue bags – Lady Grey. I've never tried it before, but it sounds promising.
"I like coffee, but I don't usually have it in the morning," I tell him, apologetically. And then, uninvited, a flashback of myself drinking the remains of his coffee just so I could taste him again surfaces on my mind.
I bow my head, trying to disguise the guilty remembrance from my face, like he could find out just by staring. If he knew I did that he'd think I'm a freak.
"So you're more of a tea person?"
"Yes."
Vigorously, he runs his hands over his tights.
"I completely forgot… Do you have milk with your tea? Sugar?"
I peel my eyes from my hands to face him again.
"No." I half-giggle at his abrupt state of worry. "I prefer it in its natural condition."
With glinting blue eyes, he inspects my every hesitant move – the plastic-tearing, the water-pouring, the teabag-soaking… Why is he so fascinated with watching me perform such basic, mundane actions?
Steam rises before me as the water gains a smoky black shade.
"Aren't you going to eat anything?"
Those buttery toasts do seem very delicious, in fact...
I grab one of the piled-up slices and take a bite.
"What about you?" I raise my eyes at Bass.
I've never seen him like this before and, to be honest, after last night, I expected him to keep avoiding me. Maybe even for the rest of the week, until I made up my mind about working for him.
Not this. Certainly not this.
"I've already eaten. I woke up at nine."
Wait… Wait, wait, wait. Nine? O'clock?!
Staggered, I jump of the couch and gather my belongings faster than he can form his next sentence. I should be at work! Goddamn, I should be in Atlanta – which is an hour away! And, to make it all worse, I was supposed to open the café today. Uncle Jack is going to be livid!
"Where are you going in such a rush?"
"To work." I reply, as I fish my phone from my bag. It's eleven. It's freaking eleven. Oh. My. Jesus. "If I'm not already fired."
Gosh, what is it with this man that makes me lose track of time and end up rushing in the mornings?
I slide my top down my arms and button up my jeans at the fastest pace I can, not even minding that Bass is still sitting there, watching me get dressed. I'm too late to lose another second with self-conscious issues.
As soon as I slide my shoes on, I spin around – ready to head off without any promise of a future encounter.
"Will you, please, give me my ticket home?" I face him and his expression hasn't changed since I've announced my current, catastrophic situation. No… He's smiling. At me!
Appalled, I glare at him.
"You don't work today," He finally speaks, although traces of his idiotic grin remain.
"Yes, I do," I reply as calmly as I can. "It's Wednesday." Not freaking Saturday.
"No, you don't. I've taken care of it."
Taken care?!
"What do you mean?"
"I sent your boss a text." He says, cool as a cucumber, looking up at me. "Now sit down, enjoy your breakfast."
"You what?"
Wow. Invasion of privacy much… But why is that insanely hot at the same time? I boil in anger, although somewhere down my belly feels warm too.
"Why?"
"I felt guilty for keeping you until so late last night. You wanted to fly back, but I wanted you to stay. It was selfish of me. So I thought the least I could do was compensate you with a day off."
He wanted me to stay…
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him you were caught up in the meeting until late, so you wouldn't be able to make it to work today." With one swift move, he stands up and reaches for my wrist. "I didn't go through your phone or read your messages. Trust me."
I don't know if I should fight or flight. So I bite the inside of my cheek, availing his expression for any hint of dishonesty. His eyes are as wide as humanly possible, pleading.
Goddamn…
"Okay." I give in and find my seat again.
His face softens as I grab the mug, and it's instantly rewarding.
"How did you know my uncle was my boss?" I ask, before discarding the tea bag on the saucer and taking a sip. The tea is incredible – fresh and bright and warm...
"He has your last name. Plus, we've met before he hired you."
So he's been to Sensations before?
"How so?"
"He waited my table a few months ago. He said he recognized me from the newspaper and we ended up having a brief conversation. I told him he could use another waiter around the café, because he was clearly stacked with work, and he said he was thinking of giving the job to his niece," Charles beams. "I said it was always a good idea to keep family and business close, and he agreed."
Wow… He didn't even know me and he was already helping me so much. If I never gotten the job at Sensations I wouldn't have been able to come to Atlanta, much less support the costs to of my upcoming book deal.
"I feel like I should thank you. Although a simple thank you can't even begin to express my gratitude."
He offers me a kind smile, then brushes his shoulders.
"It was nothing, Blair." My heart falters when he says my name. It's enough to make my appetite vanish. "However, if you want to make it up to me you know how."
"How?"
"By coming to work for me."
I sigh.
"I told you I need time to think about it. Patience, remember?"
He must know it's a big decision. And who assures me if I leave Sensations, I can come back working there if things go wrong at Loews?
Shaking his head, Bass rests back on his chair.
"I'm not backing down. The agent is paid for. So you either quit being so proud, or you come work for me."
"Jesus, you're the most taciturn man I've known…" I let my thoughts be heard.
"And you're the most obstinate woman I've met."
"Proudly."
We fall into a minute of nerve-wrecking silence as I try to eat what I had selected under his attentive gaze. Turns out I picked more than my stomach wanted to fit in. But I manage to finish my breakfast, in spite of everything.
"So what do you want to do today?" He asks when I carefully drop the empty mug. "You have the whole day to yourself."
"I have to go home and work on the book proposal."
Yep, that's a very exciting description of a day…
"No… Not what you have to do. What do you really want to do?"
The possibilities are endless – staying here all day getting to know him better, kissing him until I'm partially satisfied, exploring the magnetic city of Chicago…
"I can't afford to waste a day off when I have a deadline to meet."
"Somewhere at the end of the month, right?"
I nod.
"Taking eight hours to yourself won't make a difference, I promise."
I contemplate my options as I stare at the reflection of my disheveled hair I tried so hard to ignore. I shouldn't have slept with it wet. Now it's a tangled, wavy mess.
Caught off guard, Charles paces towards me and the couch sinks beside me. My body shudders with his proximity, my mind distracted from everything but him and him only.
"Do you have something in mind?" I murmur, earing just how shallow my breathing has become in a matter of seconds.
With attentive eyes, Charles leans closer. His fingertip finds my mouth oh-so-suddenly and, just like last night, runs across my bottom lip. It's slippery with melted butter, but he doesn't seem to mind.
Suddenly I'm very aware of my every nerve ending.
"I have plenty of things."