Page 6 of Bad At Love

He laughed, shouted ‘Polo’. Finally, he was standing outside her room. “I’m here,” he said, before nudging the door open fully.

He should’ve guessed she’d be undressed given what she’d told him. But he hadn’t expected to see her sprawled out on the bed like a seventies’ bombshell from the center-spread of a men’s magazine. In the few seconds it took him to look away, the image of her burned into his retina.

With two enormous bay windows flanking it, the black metal bed sat in the center of the large room, with the duvet kicked out at the foot of the bed. Wrist hanging from the headboard, smooth brown skin contrasting against snowy white sheets, Chaaru looked like a decadent invitation to his filthiest dreams.

Pink bra and matching lace panties kissed her skin in a startlingly sexy contrast. The light fixture on the ceiling, some modern funky thing in the shape of a flower, sprinkled patches of light all over her skin like soft petals.

Her usually straight hair was messy. Wide shoulders, small breasts, thick hips and thighs he could anchor himself against…every inch of her called to his base instincts. A flush climbed his cheeks as desire filled him to the brim.

God, he’d lusted after her for nearly two decades. Now this image of her—splayed out on the bed like a goddess waiting to be worshipped, would forever haunt him.

“DP?”

“Yeah?” he said, finally meeting her brown eyes. The four seconds he’d just spent in his head, worshipping her body, were four eternities in a different universe. He felt dizzy and incoherent in this one.

She blinked and he wondered what she saw in his expression.

“You just totally zoned out,” she said, a soft smile curving her lips. “I know you’re getting old, my man, but I didn’t think senility was already coming for you.”

He shook his head, his eyes popping out of his sockets like some cartoon character, eager to follow the line of her long, silky-smooth legs. “I’m right behind you, Char, following in your footsteps, keeping you in my sights.”

She laughed, then sobered. “Actually, you look pale and flushed.” Pulling one knee into her chest, she peered at him while he lingered at the entrance like a naughty child called into the principal’s office. “Are you coming down with something? Remind me to make you some soup when we get home.”

“I’m a little tired,” he said, folding the parking receipt as if it held the secrets of the universe, willing his arousal down. “Maggie took a statistics class that’s killing her. I’ve been helping her study at night on Facetime.”

“Sorry I made you leave in the middle of your date,” Chaaru said. “I called Mona, but she’s at the clinic overnight and-”

“It’s okay,” he said, forestalling her. “I don’t mind.”

Her expression turned sheepish. “Was Pooja angry?”

“More disappointed, I think.”

She let out a wolf-whistle, teasing him as if she hadn’t had the evening from hell. “Of course she was disappointed, you sly fox.”

He walked the perimeter of the expansive room, just to give himself something to do instead of gawking at her. “Where are your clothes?”

Her brown eyes flashed with frustration. “The jackass took my dress.”

“Asshole!” he said, turning toward the rich mahogany dresser that sat against the opposite wall. “Let’s steal the poor painter’s designer shirt.”

“Ugh, no thanks.” She sounded disgusted by the prospect.

“I should’ve brought something for you to wear,” DP said, looking at her over his shoulder. “Should I-”

“Don’t leave.” She threw her legs over the bed and cursed when the cuffs limited her movement. “The last thing I want is to send my knight-in-shining-armor away. Just give me your shirt and put the sweater back on.”

“What?” He sounded like an inane parrot with only a handful of vocabulary.

“I knew you’d show up in one of your famous sweater vests. So, chop chop. I want to get out of here and get you back to your date.”

DP opened his mouth to protest and decided against it. There were going to be no more dates with Pooja after tonight. Not that he could tell Chaaru that right now. He still felt unbalanced and shaky at the little nugget the smart lawyer had thrown in his face.

Walking towards the bed, he pulled at the hem of his sweater when Chaaru’s giggles fractured the silence. Her shoulders shook as she grabbed her purse, breasts bouncing, the thick curve of her belly folding and rolling with her laughter. Mesmerized by the sight, he stilled. His cock, now as rigid as a steel pole, begged for friction.

“Strip, love,” Chaaru said, her accent put upon. She fluttered a ten dollar note in his direction. “Don’t worry, young man. There’s more where that came from.”

He stared at her, reality and fantasy blending and blurring.

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