Page 4 of My Puckin' Luck
She denied me once again.
She’s proven a challenge, I’ll give her that. I’m not used to a female denying me attention. Makes me desire her more.
All things considered, I’ve been a damn good boy keeping hands off in accordance with Storm and Misty’s warnings. But I doubt I can much longer.
“While that entry needs some work, look at this view. You know how to impress a woman. What is this place?” She goes to the railing, taking it all in. I do the same—taking in her exquisite backside and the way the autumn breeze softly blows through her hair—the perfect length for my fingers to get lost in.
From the lights of the valley below, and the stars above in the moonless sky, this place has become my sanctuary. “I had this added on. It’s secluded from the pool patio, being on this side of the house. Still an incredible view from here, though.”
“Your rooftop sanctuary, nice,” she exclaims. “If I could write in a place like this, maybe my boss wouldn’t be breathing down my neck for me to meet my deadline.”
“Latest script giving you trouble?” She writes sappy Christmas movies. I’ve fast forwarded through a few and I suppose if I were a woman who liked that sort of thing, they’d be good. Misty says Anastasia’s latest movie streaming on TVthe upcoming holiday season is supposed to be her best yet. The fact this is her profession, that she worked her way up to being one of the top screenwriters at the studio she works for, is what impresses me most.
“You could say I lost my muse,” she mumbles so sadly, I want to know who hurt her. My brows quirk, but I’ll leave that alone for now.
“On a clear day, you can see all the way to the ocean. Sunsets are peaceful, too. Have a seat.” I gesture to the only two chairs up here. The Adirondack style suits my need for this to be a casual space. A couple of blankets and pillows flank the backs. In the corner is a mini fridge stocked with beer and a bottle of wine. I keep the bedroom door locked where the stairs are located, controlling access to it through an app on my phone. In other words, we shouldn’t expect to be interrupted up here. I plump up the pillow and motion for her to sit.
She turns and leans against the railing, instead. “Shouldn’t you be at the party, though, as the host?”
I grin at her familiar full red lips, something she can pull off well against her fair skin and long locks of dark wavy hair.
“You caught me. While I enjoy starting a party and having people around, I get bored quickly. I usually escape and come up here for a while until the party dies down. Funny, but most people assume I bring a woman up here with me to fuck, but I don’t.”
She cocks her head and crosses her arms against her ample chest, enough to squeeze her breasts together, a valley of cleavage peeking through the v-neck of her sweater. I’d love for my tongue to graze there.
“Are you trying to tell me you’re not liable for half of the playboy rumors about you, Saint?”
“Do these chairs in this small space look comfortable for fucking around?”
She takes it all in and shrugs. “Maybe.”
“People can believe what they want. I can only be responsible for myself.” I play it cool. “Honestly, other than you and Storm, I haven’t had anyone else up here. It’s my private space. A place where I come to think.”
“So I should feel honored?”
“Yeah, actually.” I wink paired with a casual glance down the front of her, enjoying every inch I see. “Now sit. Talk with me.”
“Why me?” She asks, and I don’t answer because I don’t have one to give. I simply saw her leaving and didn’t want her to walk out of my life.
She settles into the chair, on the edge, and she shakes like a chill works through her. I tap a few things on my phone, which turns on the twinkle lights bordering the railing, and also fires up the space heater. Then I take a blanket and spread it out over her, although I hate having to cover up her body, especially her chest, which is heaving as my fingers brush her body in the process. I take it as a sign of the effect I’m having on her. She has no idea what it does to me to take care of her.
“There. It can get chilly after dark and there’s a slight breeze tonight. Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold, angel.”
“Thanks,” she rasps. The noise from the pool party crashes into our space, with loud laughter and splashing and glass breaking, telling me things are getting wild down there. Anastasia shifts uncomfortably. “So, you wanted to talk. Are you okay?”
“Better now, with your company.”
“You could have asked anyone else at the party to be here.”
“But I wanted you.”
“Why?” she croaks.
“Why not?” Accidentally, we brush elbows, the blanket over her can’t halt the electricity flowing between us.
“Okay, Saint. Seriously, I came up here hoping you weren’t going to jump or something.”
“Jump? Why the hell would I do that?”
