I was looking forward to seeing where he lived.
I was also looking forward to having sex there.
This was the zone we were going to occupy until the weekend when Boone was going to come over to the house and help me out, saying he’d ask his buds Mo, Mag, Axl and Auggie if they were in.
Boone tacked on to this, “We’ll decide whose pad we’ll crash at after, but it’d be cool if we could carve out some time to take in a movie.”
It wasn’t even up for discussion that we would crash at separate pads.
We’d be at mine.
Or we’d be at his.
All of this led me to believe we were turning out to be one of those new couples who couldn’t get enough of each other. Planned every second together. Left each other’s company reluctantly, making plans for when we’d see each other again, and connecting as soon as possible the minute we were out of each other’s space.
Case in point: the fifteen-minute makeout session we had at my door before he left and the fact I texted him probably before he drove to the end of my block.
And he’d texted me back when he was sitting at a stoplight.
By the by, after that, many further texts ensued.
I’d wanted to nab some sleep, but I couldn’t. Not while waiting for a text from the man who stayed at my house because I felt safer with him there, liked to splodge his onion ring in as much ketchup as he could get, was in to help me tear out carpet drenched in cat urine and managed the impossible feat of making love to me (rather than fucking me) on my bathroom sink.
Our first time.
Romantic and profound.
And on a bathroom sink.
There was something awesome about that, something that played to the people we were and the couple I was hoping we’d become.
Just going at it, at each other, the moment we felt it.
Furthermore, it was not often a Dom lost control.
But the sub I was, the woman I was, I liked that.
I liked that, from what we’d been sharing with each other, it meant so much to him, he wanted me so bad, he couldn’t hold it back.
So he took what he wanted.
Oh yeah.
I liked that.
And it was only on that thought that I fell into a doze.
What I didn’t like right then, was lying on my couch with my laptop on my stomach, the screen gone to sleep, and feeling something was wrong.
I couldn’t put my finger on it until…
I jerked up to sitting and just caught the laptop before it fell to the floor.
Shit.
It sounded like…
Carefully, I twisted, put my laptop on the coffee table and a foot to the floor. Using my foot to brace my weight, I leaned even deeper, keeping my body behind the wall between the living room and dining room, and peeking around the double-wide opening toward the back of my apartment.
There was a back door to my kitchen. I never used it. I didn’t because it led to a little deck under which were all the garbage pails for each unit. Beyond that were five parking spaces that were unassigned, and even though there were only four units in the house, they were always taken so I had long since stopped bothering trying to park back there because it was an exercise in futility.
The door had a knob lock, a deadbolt, and a chain as well as a kitchen cart in front of it since I never used it, but my kitchen was so tiny, I could use the extra surface and storage space.
There was a window in the door.
And through that window, clear as day, I could see a shadowy figure through the semi-opaque roman blind I had pulled down over that window.
I snatched up my phone, and on bare feet, hightailed my ass to my bedroom (importantly, where my Taser was) all while phoning Boone.
I was standing in my bedroom, still hearing the scratching at the back door, Taser in hand, when, after two rings, Boone answered.
“Hey, babe,” he greeted.
“There’s someone at my back door trying to break in,” I hissed.
No moment of silence.
No hesitation.
He clipped, “Is there a room in your house that locks?”
“Yeah. The bathroom.”
“Go there. Lock yourself in. Someone will be there soon.”
I headed that way, telling him, “I have a Taser. I grabbed it—”
“Whoever they are, I don’t want them close enough for you to use that Taser. Lock yourself in the bathroom, Kathryn. Someone is on their way. Gotta go now, honey. Get to the bathroom.”
“Okay, Boone,” I whispered.
“Got your back, baby,” he whispered in return and then he disconnected.
I locked myself in the bathroom wondering why he didn’t want me to escape out the front.
I wanted to go out front.
Did he think there’d be someone there too?