Love Me Harder (18+ Only)

Girl Meets Boy

It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon when I first met Adam. My boss's bitch switch was set to "intolerable" so I faked a migraine and got my ass out of there after lunch. My hair stuck to my face while fat raindrops dropped on me steadily. My fake Louboutin shoes marched through the puddles until I reached my apartment building. I hate riding the subway.

"Don't bother," I told the doorman who tried in vain to shield me from the deluge with a puny umbrella. "I'm already soaking wet." He smiled apologetically and opened the door.

The empty lobby felt like a warm embrace and I shivered in relief. Water sloshed inside my shoes with every step I took and I could feel my damp nylons tightening around my thighs. This is God's way of punishing me for pretending to have a headache when there are millions in the world suffering much worse. Oh well, the deed is done and all I need is a hot shower to make me feel human again.

"Hold the elevator, please!" I scrambled to the closing doors in desperation and my heavy Birkin —replica— slipped off my shoulders. "Fuck it all to hell!"

A man's hand swooped in the middle of the doors and they sprung open again just in time for all the contents of my bag to spill inside. "Thank you, thank you," I whispered in gratitude, my arms scooping my things back into their home.

"Let me help with that." His voice wasn't very deep or husky. It was the Goldilocks of voices, just right. There was something about it, the cadence maybe that made it very pleasant to my ears.

Before I could answer, he had half-knelt half-squatted in front of me and I was staring at his crotch. He could really fill out a pair of denim jeans. "I got it, thanks..." I stood up and clutched my purse to my body like a life vest in the middle of the sea.

"You might need this." He said it too close to my ear and it gave me goosebumps. My keys dangled less than a foot from my face.

I snatched it up and said in the bitchiest voice I could muster — because I don't want this stranger to think I was eyeing his package— "You're invading my personal space."

He chuckled. It was a sexy chuckle. "Please forgive me."  He took a step back and oxygen rushed back into my lungs. "What floor?"

"36."

The elevator music distracted me from the low hum my body emitted and the fact that I'm in a steel cage with a man who triggered something in me. With my eyes closed I listed off the things I wanted to do when I finally got home. Take off clothes, turn on the Keurig, jump into the shower and enjoy the hot—

"My name's Adam, by the way."

My head snapped towards him so fast it hurt my neck. "Gwen."

He had strikingly blue eyes and his full lips turned up at the sides into a smile. Tall, lean and kind of young-ish, maybe late twenties. Also known as my age and not my type.

"I just moved in last week."

That buttery soft yet rough around the edges voice will be my undoing and whatever's inside that denim package. Oh, shut up. Cold showers for me. "What?"