The Segment (Completed)

19. Sorry Arsehole

Richard burrowed his head further into the pillows and pulled up the duvet and inhaled deeply. Still half asleep with his eyes closed, he frowned. Something felt out of place.

He tried to shift, to readjust his body but he almost fell. Jesus, he thought his eyes flying open and he paused taking in his surroundings. He was still in Farrah's house snuggling into her pillows and duvet. He wished he could sigh and exclaim in romantic prose how everything smelt like her, but they didn't. They just smelt like clean laundry, but somehow even that was a comfort in its own.

The more sleep left him, the more he registered the sounds around him. The more he could hear sounds of someone moving about in the kitchen, and the faint strains of pop music. Rubbing his eyes, he looked at his watch to find that it was already 9.00 o'clock in the morning. He threw his head back onto the pillows. Mentally running through the list of things he will need to get to tomorrow. Not to mention, he really needed to start working on the contract with his siblings before they signed anything with BBCS. He was sure Allan was going to have a coronary because of it.

Taking a deep breath, he swung his legs off the couch, stood up and groaned as he stretched the kinks out of his body. It was pretty much a miracle that her couch was big enough to fit his 6'2 frame. Walking towards the kitchen he stopped at the door, watching Farrah plate up what looked like sausages and bacon. Next to that he saw a plate stacked with pancakes and his mouth watered. He loved pancakes.

Gently knocking on the door, he said, "You seem to be feeling better."

He chuckled as Farrah visibly jumped from shock. As she turned to face him, her eyes grew wide and shrilly she almost screamed, "Where the fuck are your jeans, Richard?!"

Looking down Richard frowned. He had on a pair of cotton boxer shorts that were in his eyes, pretty decent. It skimmed his mid-thigh and it wasn't the least bit clingy. He looked at Farrah and saw that she had clenched her jaws, every line of her body rigid. Even the softness of her fuzzy pajamas had a hard edge to it. The was a slow pull to the edges of his lips, as Richard smirked.

Taking slow, purposeful steps towards her he asked lowly, "Farrah, am I making you nervous?" He couldn't help but notice how her eyes kept flicking between his legs and his waist. His flannel shirt was long enough to keep him covered up.

"Hey, hey now. Eyes up here," Richard said cheekily as he closed in on her, watching her visibly swallow. Farrah was backed to the kitchen counters with nowhere to go. The rise and fall of her chest was evident and he could only imagine the havoc her heart was creating right now. And yet, the smirk refused to leave his face. 

He loved teasing her and having her speechless. Although he couldn't wait for the day when she realised the kind of power she had over him, and to wield it the way she saw it fit. To have him wrapped around her fingers, her legs, her torso...Snapping himself out of his daydream, he bent down at eye level with Farrah waiting for her reaction.

"Richard, put on your jeans," She ground out.

"You didn't answer my question, Ms. Khan. Am I making you nervous?" He asked lowly. Richard watched in awe as goosebumps broke from the dip at the base of her neck all the way up to the back of her ears. Were the goosebumps, all over her body?, he couldn't help but wonder.

"Yes. Go put them on," she ground out again.

"What's the magic word, love?"

"Please. Please for the love of Allah, put on your damn jeans," she whispered harshly.

Chuckling, Richard released the hold he had on the kitchen counter and slowly walked backwards. "You know, this is the first time that a woman has begged me to put on my jeans," he mused, eyes still sparkling with mirth.