Black Diaries

11. Attack with no Self-Defense

"Ch-Chuck," I stammered, taking a step backwards.

He, apparently, took this as an invitation, because he stepped past me into my apartment. With a curious expression on his face, he looked around.

"Um... interesting place you have here," he said, his eyes fixing on the dilapidated Chrysler in the corner.

"Used to be a garage," I mumbled, still not able to form an entire sentence.

"Yeah. The car in the corner kind of gave it away."

Silence fell like an overweight elephant. Finally, Chuck took a step towards me and closed the door behind him.

Oh no. He was close enough now for me to feel the body heat emanating from him, washing over me. He was damn hot—in more than one sense. I should move away. I really should!

But I didn't. Not even when I felt a sudden touch on my shoulder. The touch of his hand.

"How have you been?" he asked.

He is touching you! He is touching you!

I swallowed. "Fine."

Maybe if I confined myself to single-syllable answers I'd get through this all right. Maybe.

His hand squeezed, and I nearly died.

"I've been worried about you, Cassy."

I'm not in love. I'm not in love. I'm not!

"Why? I'm fine."

Damn! That was more than one syllable. I could already feel the pull drawing me toward him. Drawing me out of myself, into him. Digging my heels into the ground, I resisted. With all my might, I tried to keep my eyes away from his face, because I knew what I would see if I looked up. I would see those adorable puppy-dog eyes, and I would not be able to resist.

Still, even without looking at him, I could feel him. His powerful presence was unmistakable.

I cleared my throat.

"Do... do you want to sit down?"

His voice was hot, hard and full of need. "No."

"Oh. Well, do you want something to drink?"

"No. I want something, but it's not a drink."

Good God... He couldn't possibly mean... Could he?

I wasn't left wondering long. The pause in the conversation didn't last this time. His other hand came up to grip me tightly, leaving me no way to escape.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Well what?"

"Are we going to talk about it, Cassy?"

"About what?"

"You know what I mean!"

Unfortunately, I did. I still felt the scorching heat of his lips on mine, days after our encounter in the gym. It just was so much simpler pretending I didn't. I still hadn't looked up, still hadn't met his eyes

"Wouldn't you like to sit down?" I mumbled, gesturing to the corner. "Look. I just bought a new sofa the other day. Now I actually have a piece of furniture on which two people can sit at once. Would be a shame not to use it."

For the first time, I dared to glance up and saw the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"A shame indeed. All right. I'll sit down."

He let go of me. With a sigh of relief, I hurried over to the kitchen unit.

"Something to drink?" I called over my shoulder.