Lena took one more sip of her coffee before setting it down. "This is good, thank you."
"You're welcome," I offered.
"I just need to fix my hair, and we can leave."
I nodded and settled on her couch as she disappeared into the bathroom. It became quiet, only the occassional bird chirping outside here and there. Easing the cup to my lips I took another sip and let the heat bloom through my body.
My plan was coming together, nicely.
Lena had let her guard down so quickly.
Too quickly.
Part of me wondered if she suspected anything, but the way she'd smiled at me just now was open, and genuine. All of that told me that she didn't really suspect anything. She was just a woman who thought she'd met someone interesting. Someone who had no problem coming to her rescue.
She had no idea that I’d spend forever if I needed to engineering our little run ins.
That in such a short time, I’d become obsessed.
I could hear water running in the bathroom followed by the soft sounds of her moving around.
My dick stirred.
Last night had been better than I'd imagined. The way she'd responded to my touch, the sounds she'd made. It had left me wondering how tight she'd feel around my dick when I finally slid into her wet and waiting pussy.
Fuck.
I adjusted myself, willing my body to calm down. I couldn't chance her spotting my hard on and freak her the hell out.
No.
It was imperative that Lena continued feeling safe with me.
I heard the water shut off and quickly adjusted my dick. Moments later, Lena emerged, her hair now styled in soft waves that framed her face. She'd added a little makeup, just enough to make her eyes pop.
She looked beautiful.
Mine.
"Ready?" she asked, grabbing her purse and jacket.
"Whenever you are."
As we walked to my truck, I opened the passenger door for her. She paused, looked up at me with those dark eyes that had been haunting my dreams for weeks.
"You're really sweet, you know that?"
Sweet.
If she only knew the things I'd done. The things I'd thought about doing.
"I try," I said instead.
The drive to the gallery was comfortable. Easy. She asked me about my work, and I gave her the rehearsed answers I'd prepared. Finance. Boring. Remote. Nothing that would make her dig deeper.
She told me about a piece she was working on. Some charcoal drawing that wasn't coming together the way she wanted.
She never mentioned the surprise supplies but I continued to listen, genuinely interested. I asked her questions about where she’d lived before coming to Roanoke, the main goal of making her feel anything but creeped out.
