¸.·´¯·»Chapter Two«·´¯·.¸
¸.·´¯·»¸.·´¯·»The Encounter«·´¯·.¸«·´¯·.¸
The night seemed to drag on forever.
Brígh was certain that it was nearing the earliest hours of the morning and so far, it seemed as if the crowd below was growing louder and wilder instead of near dying out any time soon. She had long since yielded in her search for her sister among the crowd below, though if she was honest, it was due to the fact that she was more interested in her third tropical drink and peering downstairs was akin to staring at a mass of swirling and bouncing colors that made her stomach churn.
Likewise she had long since abandoned the quiet seat in the corner in favor for one at the bar, her green eyes glued to the large television currently broadcasting the local news station. Apparently some celebrity had been spotted at a nearby café. Her head was resting in her palm as she read the captions of the muted program, her phone sitting out in front of her as she waited for her sister to call or text… give her proof of life, maybe.
The young woman seriously hoped that he sister was just having a good time and had forgotten to reply to any of her messages. She better not have just left her here alone, even if it was something she knew Cadence was capable of… the incident at the zoo when they were in their early teens was a testament to that. There was also the time when Cadence had forgotten her at the park when she was eight, only to be scolded publicly by their father.
Brígh giggled softly at her own thoughts, wondering if the alcohol was making her nostalgic by bringing up long forgotten memories. She was so lost in her own thoughts that when she reached for her drink, she misjudged the distance and ended up tipping the tall glass over with her fingers.
The remainder of her icy slush poured all over the counter, and consequently, down the entire front of her dress in a rather embarrassing way. The cold ice chilled her skin abruptly and she jerked backwards unintentionally at the unexpectedness of it. Incidentally her severe reaction only caused the chair she was sitting on to tilt backwards as well, until she was sprawled out on the floor, the barstool clattering beside her legs.
A sharp pain ignited from where her head had impacted hard with the floor, only enhanced by the sudden dizziness at her loss of vertigo. The rest of her body remained a bit numb despite having hit the floor with the same force as her head had. She laid there slightly stunned by what had just happened.
"… Ouch," she whimpered belatedly.
Before she could move an inch, there were hands on her. Long fingers brushed the loose tendrils of hair out of her unfocused eyes as she was gently lifted into an upright position by a pair of large, muscular arms. Warmth engulfed her, the scent of cinnamon and sandalwood filling her senses as she was held.
It took her a moment to process that someone was attempting to gain her attention, voice speaking to her in soft, soothing tones. She found the words difficult to understand, as if it were another language, but his voice was low, rich and warm. She blinked up at the blurry figure as the noise began to form into words she could recognize.
"… a pretty good knock to the head you took," he was saying. "Are you alright?"
Brígh answered him with a noncommittal sound, because really, she was having a hard enough time hearing at the moment, let alone attempting to form her own coherent sentences. She blinked several more times before her vision finally cleared enough for her to observe the man who was holding her so carefully.
Breath caught in her throat, the very first thing she noticed was that he had the clearest blue eyes she had ever seen on anyone. Two bright jewels which seemed cool and inviting, like chilled water on an unbearably hot day. His hair was dark, not quite a soft brown but not entirely blond either, and it fell down his shoulders in long waves. He had the makings of a beard and mustache due to the lack of shaving for a few days, though the stubble did nothing to hide the prominent dimples at the corners of his mouth.
Due to her position on the floor, she regrettably could not see much of his body, though she could certainly feel him, and it was a very good feeling. He was strong, the muscles in his arms making her feel very safe and secure within their grasp, and she felt comfortable pressed against his broad chest.
It soon became apparent to Brígh, however, that she had been staring at him for perhaps a few moments too long when his dimples became even more noticeable as a smirk slid across his features. She could feel heat rise in her cheeks, flushing at being caught ogling him, though the embarrassment was only half of it. She shifted uncomfortably in his arms, trying valiantly to focus on the matter at hand.
"… I'm wet," the young woman complained quietly, looking down at her ruined dress.
It was still dripping with the remnants of her spilt drink, making the fabric stick to her skin with a cold and sugary residue. In her mind she could already visualize the angry scowl painted across her sister's face for ruining her birthday present, although Brígh had been planning to leave it for the moths to feast on after this night. She was brought out of her musings when she felt the man begin to shake around her.
Brígh focused on his face with concern, and discovered he was trying very hard not to laugh, though obviously failing miserably at it. She quirked an eyebrow at him, confusion in her eyes. "What?"
When he managed to get control of himself, he smiled at her. "There are just too many ways to abuse that statement,"
The redhead tilted her head as she mentally went over what she had said that he apparently found amusing. It had been an unnecessary statement of course, because she had noticeably spilt her drink everywhere, something he had even seen. It was an obvious statement of fact—she was wet.
Oh, she thought, suddenly realizing just how her words could be construed to perverted minds. Her cheeks became even more flushed with embarrassment as she closed her eyes, and with her fair completion she imagined that she resembled the color of her sister's car by now.
Brígh let out a startled squeak when she felt herself being lifted abruptly into the air, her arms immediately latching onto strong shoulders in fear of being dropped to the unforgiving ground once again. His chuckles reverberated through his chest, teasing her side which was still trapped against him. He carried her to a nearby sofa and set her down gently.
The man lingered briefly, before he pulled away slowly, leaving for only a moment and returning quickly with a handful of napkins. He sat down on the coffee table opposite of her. "Here," he said gently, pressing a few of the napkins against her stomach to absorb some of the remaining liquid. He obviously thought there was nothing wrong or invasive about what he was doing but a heated blush worked its way all the way up her neck as he attempted to clean her up.
Apparently he just didn't realize he was being so forward or overstepping some boundaries. She studied him carefully, trying to read his intentions. He seemed utterly intent on removing what was left of the drink, nothing more than that. Brígh was breathing heavily as he moved on to the heated skin of her chest, her eyes widening slightly. She desperately tried to soothe her nerves, despite the fact that she was uncomfortably being touched so intimately by a man she didn't even know. But she could not find it in her to object, her mouth oddly glued shut.
"There," he said quietly once he was done, and it did not escape her that his own eyes seemed drawn to her slender neck as she swallowed nervously. He discarded the sullied napkins beside him on the table. "How is the head doing?" he asked in concern.
"… Hurts," she admitted slowly, reaching back to prod at the rather painful bump at the base of her skull. "Could have been worse, I suppose. I think the alcohol is dulling the pain just a little,"
"Or just dulling your reaction to it," he said wryly. "Just how many of those drinks have you had?"
"… Two?" she answered unsurely. "Three?" How many had she had?
"Okay," He just nodded. "What is your name?"
"Brígh," she replied. "My name is Brígh. It's spelled a bit like the word bright, even though it sounds like brie, which is a time of cheese. I like cheese…"
"Hello Brígh," he replied smoothly, concealing a smile in amusement. She was cute, drunk obviously, but cute. "I am Wyatt. It is spelled exactly how it sounds with an extra 't' on the end, and I am pretty sure that I was named after my father, not a type of cheese. I like cheese too, though," He grinned at her, widening when she replied with a slow smile of her own and a soft laugh. "I like your freckles," he blurted out.
Brígh chewed on her lip. "I don't think anyone has ever used that one before,"
Completely unashamed of his potentially humiliating admission, Wyatt merely smiled widely. "That's because it is incredibly lame and doesn't even deserve a response," he admitted cheekily. "And I think I am already completely smashed, so feel free to ignore every other word that comes out of my mouth."
"… Okay," she agreed softly.
Wyatt smiled. "I haven't seen you around here before," he mentioned, even though he had to admit that even he didn't know half of the clubs clientele. He could recognize a rather sizable portion of course, the ones who frequented here often, and some of the ones who caught his eye because he found them attractive. Someone like Brígh would have caught his eye. She seemed like the type to leave a lasting impression on his memory.
"I've never been here before," Brígh admitted easily. "Never been to any club, for that matter. To be honest, I don't really want to be here now… I was blackmailed into it by my sister." Her eyes widened suddenly as she realized he was the one the bouncer had referred to as his boss. "Not that this place isn't great I like it," she was quick to explain, cringing slightly as the lie slipped past her lips, decidedly unconvincing. She amended, "I like it up here, at least,"
Wyatt struggled not to laugh, far from feeling insulted. "Not one for the clubbing scene," he guessed.
"No, not at all," she said, relieved. "The music okay, a little loud, but I like the band. It's the people…"
"That make you feel uncomfortable," he deducted with a nod. "I understand, it can get pretty rowdy down there. Why do you think we built the lounge? It's like our own personal haven away from the ravenous crowd," He grinned in success when she giggled slightly. "And just so you know, you are welcome up here any time your sister decides to blackmail you into coming here again,"
"Oh, you don't have to—"
Wyatt shook his head, meeting her eyes seriously. "I insist," he said softly.
"… Thank you," Brígh said, smiling at him in wonderment.
Another hour passed by, though much too quickly for his liking. Wyatt was strangely elated to have someone to converse with, someone who was not judging him or criticize him about his shortcomings or accomplishments. It was refreshing. He knew that his friends and family meant well but they had a habit of crowding him and trying to draw the answers out of him when he just wanted to work things out on his own.
Brígh had yet to do that, though partially because she was unaware of his incredibly stupid and immature way of handling the crisis he was in. Their conversation consisted mainly of the most mundane things about themselves, ranging from their favorite movies to their least favorite ice cream flavors. Brígh seemed to want to keep her personal life just as private as he did, although he would not object should she feel the need to open up more.
Eventually he had succeeded to wrangle out the reason she was here tonight, wanting a bit of elaboration on how exactly she was blackmailed into attendance, and once he had discovered it was her birthday, he just had to order her another drink on the house to celebrate. He knew that they should slow down, however unwillingly, and made sure to order some glasses of water as well.
At some point he had moved from his perch on the coffee table to sit beside her on the sofa, and eventually he had somehow managed to move in such a way that he was laying down, his head resting on the top of her smooth, creamy thigh, his right leg thrown over an armrest while the other rested on the floor. His eyes were closed as her gentle fingers carded through his long hair, smoothing out the tangles.
Neither of them were quite sure what the time was at this point. All sense of time seemed to escape them, lost in the moment and contented atmosphere held between them. Wyatt was much too comfortable in her lap to be bothered to check the watch secured around his wrist, and he couldn't bring himself to worry about how he could be so relaxed against a stranger he had met only hours ago.
It must have been nearing closing time, however, as the sheer volume of the cloud steadily began to decrease, meaning it was likely already in the early hours of the morning. He really didn't want to move, however, much too content to just stay in this position and never move for the rest of his life.
Oh yeah, he thought. I am toasted…
Honesty his reluctance to move had nothing to do with a lack of energy to pull himself away from her. He simply lacked the motivation and willpower to do so. It may have just been his muddled mind, but he could not remember the last time someone allowed him to rest against them like this while he spoke about everything, and nothing, utter nonsense and his most profound thoughts.
It was nice, and just as he wished her to be more open with him, Wyatt was more than tempted to speak about more serious matters with her. He physically had to bite his tongue several times to quell the urge, her blown wide pupils with a smidge of green around them making it difficult to reign in the desire to be honest with her.
Honest about things he still could not even bring himself to talk to his family about, such as what had been plaguing him for the past few days. It would be so easy to tell her. She would be sympathetic, might even shed a tear or two on his behalf, and she would comfort him without pity or the need to smother him. As much as he would love to tell her, tell her everything about him and his life and his family, because he had a feeling she would love them just as much as he did, he also knew that he was incredibly drunk off his ass.
Wyatt had always been a talkative drunk, and it would be a horribly bad idea to lament his entire life story to a virtual stranger, no matter how tempting it was. He had secrets to keep. Dark family secrets that were not only his to keep, secrets that had the potential to be dangerous and devastating to the ones he loved. He had been down this road before, with women he had dated in the past, or friends who had been suspicious about what was really going on in his life.
So even though he was not exactly censoring himself on the little, insignificant things he was telling her, Wyatt did have enough sense and self-preservation to avoid bringing up certain topics.
"Hey," a soft murmur met his ears, and he opened his eyes lazily, breath catching in his throat as luminous, emerald eyes gleamed down at him. He sighed in contentment as her fingernails scratched softly at his scalp. "You went away," she said quietly.
"Sorry," he replied, realizing that he must have been silent for a moment too long. "Where were we?"
Brígh smiled tiredly. "It is your turn…"
Wyatt nodded, his brows furrowing in thought as he returned his attention onto the verbal game they had been playing. He likened it to a game he had played when he was younger, twenty questions. Only in this version there seemed to be no limit on how many questions they were asking, and the two had long since abandoned the actual asking and had gone straight to answering.
Brígh seemed as if she had no intention quitting on him any time soon, and he was grateful because he could already feel their time together was coming to a close. He wished it could go on forever, no matter how unrealistic that notion was. Wyatt sighed inwardly, shaking himself from his own thoughts as he floundered for something to tell her… something inconsequential.
"I hate popcorn," he told her finally, seeing as it was a safe subject. "My very first job was at a movie theater, and I worked there for almost two years. Every day, for hours and hours at a time, I would have to make the popcorn, clean up popcorn, and breathe the popcorn in. I would come home smelling like it," He wrinkled his nose. "Even after showering, and the butter—the butter is just flavored oil, and it is impossible to wash off the first time,"
"… I love popcorn,"
"Hey," he narrowed his eyes up at her teasingly. "You can't answer the same question! It's cheating,"
"Fine," Brígh shook her head, the corners of her eyes wrinkling with mirth. "I dislike chocolate cake."
"That's… that's blasphemy!" Wyatt cried out in dramatic disbelief. "What is wrong with you woman?"
Brígh smiled at his scolding tone. "I just don't like it," she replied.
Wyatt shook his head sadly. "That's it. You are coming with me to Charmed one day. It is time to reeducate you on what real chocolate cake should taste like," he practically huffed. "You have obviously been deprived of the good stuff as a child, so we will have to introduce you to the best cake in the city,"
"It won't change anything," she sang, pausing a moment later. "Were you talking about the restaurant, Charmed?"
"Yep,"
Brígh raised an eyebrow at him, smiling slightly. "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get in there? I have only been there once, and even then it was only because my mother booked our reservation two month in advance. I would be all for it, of course, even if it meant chocolate cake, but you would have to call in the reservation a few months early,"
Wyatt only smiled, a strange flutter in his heart. "So I'll meet you there tomorrow? Say around lunch time?"
"… You expect me to believe that you have a reservation there for tomorrow?"
"No," he shrugged. "But I could get us a table,"
"No," Brígh argued. "You couldn't. It's impossible, believe me, I've tried!"
Wyatt chuckled at her. He could, in fact, simply waltz inside of the upscale restaurant in a pair of ratty jeans and a stained shirt and be escorted to their best table, even if she was having difficulty believing him. He decided to let the matter drop for now. "My turn, isn't it? I have a sword collection," he told her proudly, and amended a moment later, "Well… my brother and I have a sword collection. We collect more than just swords though. We have maces, daggers, a few whips… even some armor and chainmail, and some really neat shields."
"Medieval nerd," she accused softly.
"I'm awesome. Admit it."
Brígh laughed quietly. "Of course, Wyatt, you are just so awesomely awesome."
"Keep it coming," he said impishly.
For a moment, she could only frown in confusion, and then she delivered a flick to his ear as she realized what he meant. "Oh Wyatt, you are so amazingly smart, and oh so kind. I do not deserve to be in your noble presence," she gushed dramatically, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice. He grinned, laughing with her until he noticed she had fallen silent, her features softening into an unidentifiable look.
For some reason it was making his palms sweat and his throat bob as he swallowed the sudden thickness lodged inside, staring up at her uncertainly. Her own face was gentle, soft pink lips curled into a barely noticeable smile, her eyes bright and smiling at him. She grazed his cheek with her fingertips gently, gliding down the raised stubble until she reached the underside of his jaw. He reached up and caught her hand, absently twining their fingers together though his eyes never left hers. Her hands were incredibly soft, he noted, so much unlike his own calloused hands.
"Tickles," he murmured.
Brígh smiled at him. "You are very smart you know," she whispered. "Smart, and kind… and far too charming for your own good,"
The seriousness in her voice made his swallow again. "… You forgot handsome," he said quietly, trying to make light of the situation again, if only to regain control over his hormones which were obviously taking her words to heart. This had not been his intention, not with her. He exhaled silently. "I am extremely handsome too,"
Brígh laughed in a breathlessly, tired sort of way. "Handsome," she repeated indulgently. "I think,"
"… You think?" Wyatt grinned, amusement lacing his tone, thankful for her choice of words to abolish the seriously direction they seemed to have unintentionally gone in their conversation. "I am not entirely sure that was a real compliment, my lady,"
Brígh smiled again, and with her free hand she delicately rubbed against her closed eyelids with soft fingertips. "It was, you are very handsome. Sorry," she sighed. "I am just a little tired right now, and it is a bit difficult to get more than a vague impression when you are seeing double." She opened her eyes, tilting her head to observe him. "You have blond hair… a bit on the darker side. More of a honey brown," She twisted one of his long waves around a finger. "You are strong, and tall… and you have the most beautiful blue eyes…"
Wyatt shifted slightly, pressing his cheek to the top of her thigh as he attempted to control himself. "And I think you have had a little too much to drink," he told her in a quiet voice. He should have left it alone, because there was only so much a man could take when being complimented by a beautiful young woman.
"Your fault," she told him, resuming her previous task of messaging his scalp with her fingertips. It felt too good, and his eyes fluttered closed briefly, body betraying him. "You bought me another fruity thing,"
Wyatt studied her regretfully. "Maybe it is time we call it a night," he suggested, reluctance and urgency warring with each other. She hummed in agreement, though made no move to cease her gentle ministrations. A sigh was unwilling torn from him, his hand spasming around hers as he relaxed more thoroughly into her, the warmth from her soft body and the pleasant buzz of alcohol making him lethargic. "You are going to make me fall asleep if you keep this up," he whispered hoarsely.
"Sorry," she apologized, her voice lacking sincerity.
Wyatt chuckled, realizing he was the one who was going to have to move or they would never leave. So with a heavy heart, he released his hold on her hand, reaching for the other one playing with his hair instead before she managed to absorb all of his strength through her touch. He gathered his feeble energy and extracted himself from her, a strange loss settling in the pit of his stomach with the loss of contact. With a deep, calming breath, he extended a hand, pleased when she placed her own small hand inside of his.
As he helped her to her feet, he miscalculated the amount of force needed to hoist her up, and she stumbled into his broad chest. He quickly grasped her shoulders in an attempt to steady her, idly licking his dry lips as he discovered that her smooth, pale flesh was so invitingly warm beneath his palms. He closed his eyes briefly, a mantra of badthoughts, badthoughts, badthoughts, ringing throughout his skull. He released her as soon quickly as possible, as if her skin burned him, taking a hasty step back as he released haggard breath.
It had to be an involuntary reaction, the quickening of his heart, by being so close to her. His blood felt as if it had caught fire, a burning igniting in the pit of his stomach. It raged inside of him. The alcohol was undoubtedly clouding his judgment, and he licked his parched lips once more, trying desperately to think of anything other than the warmth of her skin beneath his hands. He had to calm himself down, to prevent himself from doing something they were both sure to regret come tomorrow.
The young man was far from a saint. He had enjoyed the company of many women in his adult life. He smiled a charismatic smile, caressed an arm while speaking in smooth, hypnotic tones. He said exactly what they wanted to hear to satisfy his own needs. This right now, however, was not what he wanted. Not now. Not with her.
It would be so easy to make her want him, he knew it would be. She was already attracted to him. He knew exactly what to say to make women throw themselves at him, because she was right, he was too charming for his own good when he wanted to be. She was so intoxicated that she would probably be even more receptive to the idea. He could admit to himself that he wanted to.
Wyatt had come here to loose himself in his sorrows, however, and no matter how tempting it would be to loose himself in the presence of a beautiful and understanding woman, he was trying desperately not to defile the sincere innocence she seemed to possess. Brígh deserved more than that, especially from him.
It was rare for him to be so genuinely interested in someone. He would hate to ruin this before he even got a real chance to know her. Therefore even though something inside of his was urging him to stay as close to this woman as physically possible, he made sure to keep a bit of distance between them as they descended from the lounge. It was not helpful to find that his lungs were still full of her soft scent or that his scalp still tingled from her touch.
Damn his mother for making him so noble.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched her, opening his mouth to suggest that they get a cab together. Neither of them were in any state to drive right now and besides, Wyatt had absolutely no intention of letting a young, beautiful woman travel home alone, especially not when she was even half as intoxicated as he was. Only before he could voice his suggestion, she was already moving away from him, her green eyes scanning the few and far between people lingering in the club, a slight pinch to her brows.
Brígh bit her bottom lip uncertainly, lowering her head as a downhearted sigh escaped her. She curled into herself, arms wrapping around her midsection as she turned back to him, still studying the floor. "Thank you for the company," she said quietly, voice tinged with a sadness that made his chest ache. "Goodnight."
Before Wyatt even had a chance to possibly think of returning the sentiment, the young woman had turned her heel and had already begun the journey up the stairwell that led to the street above. His brain finally caught up with him, and he hurried to catch her before she got too far away, only slowing from the light jog he had broken into once he was striding right beside her.
"Trying to ditch me?" he asked, a hand over his heart as he pouted.
Brígh smiled reluctantly as she glanced at him. "Of course not," she said. "My house is not too far away from here… you shouldn't bother yourself. I'll be fine."
It made him frown to think that she thought of herself as a bother. He would have to remedy that. "Don't be ridiculous," he admonished. He smiled softly at her when she looked over to him in question. "It goes against my nature to just let you walk through downtown by yourself at," He glanced at his watch, cringing as the digits glared back at him. "Four in the morning… for one, my mother would kill me if she ever found out that I let your do that," He shuddered at the thought.
Brígh arched an eyebrow at him curiously. "You actually sound serious,"
"Oh, I am," he nodded earnestly. "Not even just my mom who would have my hide either. My cousins and my sister would be utterly pissed off, and don't even get me started on my brother," He rolled his eyes dramatically, grinning in success when she laughed.
It was then he noticed the slight tremor in her frame, a realized that while it would probably be mostly dried by now, her dress was still at least damp from her earlier spill. The night air was rather chilled this time of year as well. He unzipped his own jacket and shrugged out of it without another thought, twisting it around and draping it across her bare shoulders. He watched her reaction carefully.
Brígh appeared startled at first, her eyes widening at the gesture as if she was unsure what to make of it. He was pleased to note, however, that once she got over the initial uncertainty that she made no protest to the jacket, and was in fact pulling it around her slim body snugly to bask in the pleasant warmth. He turned away quickly to hide his smile.
Brígh, however, made no move to hide her own. "Thank you."
All was quiet as they continued to walk. It was a comfortable silence, just the sound of their own feet scuffing against the cement, the sound of cars passing them by on the street beside them. It took all of fifteen minutes before Wyatt frowned, suddenly realizing that he actually recognized the street he was on. It took him a few more minutes of searching his own thoughts before he remembered why.
"My cousin lives around here," he commented idly, looking around with interest. He had never actually been down this street, just seen it from the wide windows of the apartment. This district housed a majority of the city's towering skyscrapers and lush penthouse apartments. The implications of that were obvious to him… Brígh was entirely out of his league. He never had a chance. "Which building are you in?"
"Just around the corner," she assured him. "Thank you for walking me home,"
Wyatt could not resist the urge to touch her, so he laced their fingers together once again, tugging her closer so that their shoulders brushed against each other. "My pleasure," he told her. "So, I never asked, and sorry if this is invasive but… were you at the club alone? I know you said that you had been blackmailed into going but…"
"… No, not alone," she sighed. "My sister was there with me."
Wyatt kept his tone light, hoping not to portray just how upset he was to hear her say that. "She just left you there?"
"Cadence… is not the most responsible older sibling in the world," Brígh told him softly, pulling the jacket around her more securely. She bit her lip. "Most people are under the misconception that I am older than her because I am… a bit more… focused, I suppose."
Wyatt nodded silently, tightening his fingers around hers briefly while he shoved his other hand in his pocket to hide the fact that he had clenched it into a fist. He was irrationally angry with a woman he had never even met. He sighed inwardly as he forced the anger away for the moment, deciding he would contemplate it some other time.
"I love her," Brígh continued quietly. "She is my big sister, and I know she didn't mean to do it. She knew I didn't want to be there to begin with, so she probably just assumed that I had already left before her. If she did bother to look, it isn't as if she would have known to look in an exclusive lounge for me."
Wyatt had to concede that she had a point. Her sister would have had a difficult time searching for her in the lounge, besides the fact that it was reserved for employees and their families, it was also near impossible to even see above the bright, flashing lights. Brígh was just the exception, due to Eric and himself.
Although there were still other ways to ensure that Brígh had managed to get home safely that her sister had obviously neglected. For instance, giving her a phone call would have sufficed. He had noticed that the redhead had checked her cellular phone periodically throughout the night, though he had not broached the subject because he did not enjoy the disappointment on her face, instead changing the subject in attempts to make her smile.
Cadence must have been out of her mind, Wyatt mused thoughtfully, to leave her sister alone in a club full of strange men just waiting to take advantage of her inebriated state. And he should know, because even if he was desperately trying not to let his thoughts drift, he was still one of those men.
It was a difficult task to keep his attention only on her voice as she spoke, his eyes constantly drawn towards her lips with each word. Her lips were not shiny with sticky gloss or stained with lipstick, unlike most of the women he knew. Just pillow soft and naturally pink… idly, he wondered if they were really as soft as they appeared.
Bad thoughts, Wyatt, bad thoughts…
Finally reaching the end of the street, they turned and began approaching the door, and Wyatt was grateful for the distraction. He was impressed to find an elderly man wearing a regal suit and tie waiting to open the doors, which themselves were made entirely of glass. He glanced up the the building, his eyes widening involuntarily at the impressive height of the building.
"Good morning, Miss Rowan," the man greeted evenly as he grasped the gleaming handle with a white glove. He was obviously very professional, and very discreet, because he made no comment on the fact that she had been gone a majority of the night, nor did he make to acknowledge the fact that there was an unfamiliar man accompanying her home. Wyatt followed behind her as she entered, unsure what he should do from that point.
Brígh returned the gentleman's greeting with a pleasant smile as they entered. She was very aware that Wyatt had followed her inside. She watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye, smile widening as he took in the extravagant interior of the apartment lobby with a cursory glance before he walked with her to the elevator. She closed her eyes briefly as he rested his hand on the small of her back as they entered.
"I'll just walk you to your door," he said in response to her silent question.
During the entirely too long elevator ride up to the fifteenth floor, he began to move his hand along her back boldly, unaware of the fact that the gentle tough was sending electricity throughout her entire body. His mere touch alone was enough to inspire thoughts she very rarely entertained. His gaze burned her, seared into her senses as he played with a stray curl at the base of her neck.
Silver doors released a soft chime as the elevator finally reached her floor, and together they stepped out. He had not even registered the sound, and only knew to move when she began drawing away from him. He was too entranced, even as he fought an internal battle with himself, trying to remember why exactly walking her to her room would be a bad idea. His thoughts bounced around inside of his head as he debated his wants with reality.
Brígh did not know him, and yet he felt as if she knew him better than most. He should not have offered to walk her home, he was intruding… but if she didn't want him here, surely she would have told him? She seemed like the kind of woman who spoke her mind. She was obviously very wealthy to live here, entirely out of his league… she was probably the type of woman who cared little for monetary value rather than personality. She was an innocent, she was innocent… he would hate to defile that innocence for one selfish night of intoxicated passion.
More and more reasons came to mind, warring with him to turn around now before he ended up doing something incredibly stupid. Yet as they approached her door, all coherent thought eluded him, mind oddly silent and his nerves burned with anticipation. He was out of excuses now, out of time. He held his breath as she turned around to face him, the smile on her face absolutely breathtaking, her emerald eyes vulnerable and uncertain.
Wyatt could not contain himself.
Throwing caution to the wind, the young man took a deliberate step closer to her, slowly backing her against the door until they were flush against each other, her soft breasts pressed against the hard planes of his chest. He relished in the intimate touch, her unsteady breath teasing his chin as his hands lifted to gently grasp her arms. He could feel the slight tremble as he gauged her reaction carefully. He had to be absolutely certain that she wanted this as much as he did.
Brígh made no protest, and their eyes never broke contact as he slowly used a hand to brush a soft, unruly curl behind her ear, his fingertips lingering feather light upon her porcelain cheek. Propriety long since forgotten, he leaned in steadily, brushing his lips first across her forehead in a gentle way. Her gasp was like fuel, and swallowed the last of his nerves.
Lowering further, he pressed butterfly kisses on her temple, parted lips gliding down the bridge of her nose. Her eyes had fallen closed beneath the treatment, and he finally descended upon her lips, determined to discover if they were indeed as soft as they appeared. And they were—so incredibly soft and inquisitive even with the gentle, barely there pressure he was applying.
Brígh tasted of coconut, most likely from the tropical drinks she had been consuming, and beneath that he could taste spearmint. As he deepened the kiss, he felt her respond tentatively and his heart soared. His hands drifted from her cheek to slide along her neck, giving himself the leverage he needed to delve even deeper, and his other hand desperately sought purchase around her waist.
Bright herself was lost in a raging sea of foreign emotions and consuming feeling she could not recall having ever experienced before. His arm tightened around her waist ever so slightly, and action she was grateful for because at any given moment she was sure her legs would fail her. Being so close to him, surrounded by his warmth and the comforting scent of sandalwood… it made her feel lightheaded and weak.
The tip of his tongue brushed against the seam of her lips searchingly, and she moaned involuntarily at the strange feeling it aroused, only to gasp as it pushed inside to tangle with her own. She relinquished any and all control of the intimate act to him completely, her inexperience forcing her to let him guide her in the act.
Only when it became apparent that they both needed to breath did he finally release her captive lips, though he kept his hand right where they were, his body still leaving no inch of her untouched.
Time seemed suspended as his forehead came to rest upon her own while they each sought to catch their breath, emeralds and sapphires clashing with widely dilated pupils. His eyes reminded her so very much of the ocean, especially in this moment. She felt as if she could swim in his eyes, trapped in a powerful current that was pulling her deeper and deeper in.
Earlier she could recall his eyes being clear and calm, a bright blue, but now they were dark and foreboding, mysterious and intriguing, and murky with an unnamed emotion.
"… Brígh,"
Brígh closed her eyes against the sound, the way he whispered her name, his voice breathless and hoarse, borderline hopeless and pleading for something, anything made her body shiver, and it had nothing to do with the cold. If anything she was certain her body was overheated by being so close to him. It was utterly captivating.
Trembling slightly, her arms lifted of their own accord, rising to grasp at the back of his neck to give him a slight tug down, in order to close the few inches remaining between their lips. It seemed to be all the permission and incentive he needed and she surrendered to the powerful and overwhelming feelings he inspired.
All she could focus on was Wyatt as he surrounded her with his fervent presence. She was acutely aware of the way his fingertips were suddenly trailing down her sides, brushing against her hips before he finally hooked his hands beneath her thighs, and she was forced to wrap her arms around his neck more securely as she was suddenly lifted up, her legs inevitably wrapping around his waist to keep aloft.
Apparently the new position placed her bared neck and collarbone in perfect reach for his mouth, and she whimpered softly as he took full advantage of that fact, his mouth hot as he bean sucking and licking and biting at her soft skin with the clear intention of marking her.
A soft sound, barely even audible, penetrated her erratic thoughts, soft and gentle, distantly reminding her of some type of wind chime or possibly a small bell ringing in the background. She only thought on it briefly because butterflies suddenly erupted inside of her stomach so abruptly that she had trouble remembering how to breathe, let alone register the sudden lack of door against her back.
Brígh felt as if she was being pulled in every direction all at once, her body tingling with sensation, lost in a moment that consumed her and made everything go into a haze. The feeling was decidedly odd, leaving her gasping once her stomach finally calmed, though it had not been entirely unpleasant. She opened her eyes, dazed and uncertain. What was that…?
For the life of her, Brígh had no idea how they had managed to get into her apartment, apparently having been so lost in sensation that she had not noticed but she could not bring herself to care because the next thing she knew, he had pulled away from her neck and she had begun to remove his shirt. Her bright eyes drank in the sight of his finely chiseled muscles, her own fingers exploring his defined chest tentatively as he carried her through the apartment, obviously seeking out the bedroom.
Slowly he released her at the foot of the bed, gravity pulling her down while he caught the hem f her dress with his hands, consequently causing it to ride up her thighs and eventually her waist as she was deposited safely onto the ground. The fabric was trapped between them as he kissed her again, his hands insistently pushing his jacket from her shoulders, pulling back only to continue to remove the dress, raising it off of her.
Brígh shivered when she was freed of the dress, bare save for her miniscule undergarments. She steadied her nervous breaths, and he allowed her hands to freely inspect his broad shoulders and to delicately trace his toned abdomen, the muscles pleasantly contracting as her fingers made contact. He had a scar on his chest, and angry scar that ran from the left side of his collar to his ribs in a diagonal slash. He groaned deeply when she brushed her lips against the scarred flesh tenderly.
Wyatt pulled her away from the imperfection to kiss her deeply, burrowing his hands into her hair. There was no need for words at the moment, save for the occasional breathless declaration of beauty and mine from him along with a few choice profanities. He backed her up until the backs of her knees were pressed against the edge of the mattress, not relenting until they both tumbled down onto it.
Pulling back, supporting his own weight with his elbows, a burning desire ignited inside of him at the sight of her dark red hair spread out over the sheets. Her chest was moving frantically as she inhaled and exhaled, trying to regain her breath even as he bent down to kiss her softly once more. Catching her eye deliberately, he moved once again to her inviting neck, grinning against her skin when she gasped. She held on to him desperately as she was overtaken by her own senses.
It too him several minutes before he was finally satisfied with the dark blemish marring her flesh, the mark resting at the junction of her neck, red and shining at the moment. It would make a lovely bruise. He delved even lower, kissing a small birthmark located at the top of her left breast as he divested her of her simple black bra, his other hand still roaming down her waist and lower stomach.
Darkened blue eyes took in the sight of her bare chest appreciatively, and he lowered his head, attaching himself to the creamy skin, sucking and nipping and teasing the underside of her breast with his tongue. He brazenly mouthed hot, openmouthed kisses against her apparently sensitive ribcage, effectively driving her mad with sensations. Her hands tangled in his hair, her moans ringing in his ears as he lost himself.
For an untold amount of time, Wyatt tortured her delicate senses, enjoying every little desperate moan and gasp he managed to elicit from her on his venture of exploring her body. He continued further down much later, paying particular attention to the low dip of her navel, pausing only when he reached the edge of her underwear. He inhaled the scent of her deeply, tracing the elastic band with his tongue before he sought her eyes.
Brígh had her head tossed to one side, hands still lost in the tangled mess of his hair.
Wyatt pressed a gentle kiss just below her bellybutton as he waited patiently for her to realize he had stopped. He promised himself that he would back away if she had second thoughts no matter how beside himself he was to be with her right now, to be one with her so completely that no one would ever be able to separate them. He wanted that more than he ever wanted anything, and though he could not be certain that this was not only fueled by the alcohol still coursing through their bloodstreams, he hoped that she wanted it too.
Finally she lifted her head, confusion on her face as to why he had stopped. Her pupils were blown wide, evergreen irises a barely visible ring, though nonetheless burning with passion and lust. A slow smile spread across his lips, enraptured by the arousing sight. His heart swelled as she smiled back at him tenderly, and he had his answer. He carefully began pulling the garment down her slim hips…
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¸.·´¯·»Chapter«·´¯·.¸
… and you can all just use your imaginations for the rest because that is as far as I am willing to go at this juncture, seeing as this story is rated mature and not NC-17. I think it was descriptive enough that you got the gist of what happens next. It's understandable if some of you think this was a bit of a strong opening to the story, though I assure it was necessary for the plot. Scenes like this will be a long way off in the future, and after this chapter the relationship will be slow building. Hopefully I haven't scared anyone away.