Avoiding: Avoiding Intimacy Part 6

"That's really quite alright," she said, turning him down with a smile.

"You here with a boyfriend or something?" he asked as if that was the only reason it would make sense that she would be turning him down.

"Not tonight," she said as a dismissal, taking the next martini placed on the bar.

"I'll have whatever she's drinking," the guy said to the bartender, laying down a hundred dollar bill.

She almost rolled her eyes. Was that supposed to impress me?

Chyna sipped on her martini, wanting any excuse to get away from this guy. Why did he think he even had the right to be in her presence? Guys were so f.u.c.king irritating. Couldn't they take a hint?

She was off in her own world when the guy's hand trailed down the side of her arm. She glared up at him. "What are you doing?" she asked, pulling her arm back. She did not want him touching her.

"You want to get out of here?" he asked, looking ridiculous as he took a sip of his martini. "I have a suite at the Plaza right now. It's got your name written all over it."

"No," Chyna said exasperated. "What could possibly give you that thought? You don't even know my name."

"Come on, baby," he slurred.

Ah! He was wasted. He hid it well. "I'm not your baby, and I've politely told you no. I'm not generally polite," she said, raising her eyebrows.

"You'll have a good time," he continued.

"Of that I'm certain," she said sarcastically. She dropped her half-finished martini back on the bar and motioned to her bartender that she was through. She had a circling tab at the bar, so if she had to leave, they could just bill her. It was her favorite thing about this place.

"Where are you going?" the guy asked when she started walking away.

"Get a clue!" she yelled over her shoulder.

Chyna pulled her touch screen cell phone out of her purse to shoot off a text to her driver. She was sick of this place and needed a change in venue. If she stayed, she was sure that drunken a.s.shole would press his luck. She was supposed to be safe tonight.

She hit Send on the phone and was about to put it away when the screen lit up with a strange number. Because she had reached the edge of the club and was already pus.h.i.+ng through the double doors into the silence, she answered the call. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Hey, Chyna, it's John."

Chyna stumbled in her high heels, knocking into the bouncer. She actually stumbled. She had been wearing high heels since she was twelve. She could be rip-roaring drunk and didn't miss a step in these things. The bouncer caught her easily, giving her a look like she needed to get her s.h.i.+t together before he released her.

"Adam gave me your number and said you might be out tonight," he continued.

"Uh...yeah, hi," she muttered. "He mentioned that."

"So, Adam's working late and can't hang out. You doing anything?"

"I'm just leaving a bar. Did you want to meet somewhere?" she asked.

Yes, Adam had told her to hang out with him, but what was she doing? She couldn't be alone with this guy. h.e.l.lo? Bad idea? Yeah, nice to hear from you.

"I'm not meeting friends until later," he said.

"Me either," Chyna said, sliding into the backseat of her town car as soon as the door opened. "Adam said you might need a ride. I'm already in my car. Do you want me to come pick you up?"

"Is he trying to get me drunk?" John asked with a laugh at the end.

"Sounds like him," she responded, waiting in her car.

"Sly b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Alright, yeah, sounds perfect. I'll text you the address."

"Great."

"It'll take me a minute to get ready. You can have the attendant let you up to the top floor."

Chyna handed the address over to her driver, Carl. He nodded, already knowing the building. Just looking at the address, she knew that it wasn't a far drive. He lived in a nice part of town and on the top floor. Global had to be paying alright for him to afford a penthouse. She would love to peruse it and compare it to her own.

G.o.d, she just wanted to f.u.c.k Adam's brother. She would have laughed if it weren't so messed up. She couldn't go over to John's apartment. There were beds there...and counters...and she was h.o.r.n.y. f.u.c.k. She was also clearly teetering toward drunk. How fast had she downed those martinis?

Anyway. She pushed her mind back to the matter at hand-f.u.c.king John. Wait, no. Maybe she didn't even want to f.u.c.k him. Well, all she knew was that after only a few short hours, she had already completely pegged him as a bad boy-the kind of guy she would have f.u.c.ked in an instant before Adam.

Before Adam.

Right. Why hadn't he f.u.c.ked her before leaving again? That would have helped. Then, she wouldn't be so G.o.dd.a.m.n h.o.r.n.y...and drunk. Had she mentioned that she was getting drunk?

No. No. No. Wait, this was probably a bad idea. She shouldn't be this drunk and h.o.r.n.y at once. She should probably tell Carl to turn the car around and find another club or better yet take her home so she can get herself off before Adam came home. That sounded appealing.

d.a.m.n Adam. Since when had she turned into this person? Her drunken mind laughed at her. She had done it as soon as she and Adam had started dating, and it hadn't even been difficult. She had just stopped bringing people home. Her doorman, Bernard, was the only other person who seemed to appreciate the change.

Fortifying her demeanor, Chyna pushed back her drunken thoughts. This was her boyfriend's brother. He was only here for the rest of the weekend, and then it was back to business as usual. Anyway, how big of a douche did you have to be to go for his brother's girlfriend?

Carl dropped her off on the sidewalk in the brisk March evening. Trying to keep the cold from sinking into her bones, she jogged into the building, pulling her coat tightly around her shoulders. She walked quickly to the attendant.

"Hi. Excuse me," Chyna said, reaching the desk and rubbing her hands together.

"May I help you?" the man asked, doing his best not to check her out as she unbelted her jacket.

"I'm here for John Ward."

"Ah, yes, he just called down. I'll buzz you all the way up," he said with smile as he gestured toward the elevator to his right.

"Thank you," Chyna said, heading to the elevator.

She pressed the up b.u.t.ton and entered the elevator when it opened. The top b.u.t.ton was lit up when the doors closed behind her, but it didn't have a number on it like the other ones. It just had a tiny scanner next to the b.u.t.ton. Strange.

She didn't have to wait long to be let out as the elevator traveled at great speeds. It spit her out on a small empty hallway with only one door. She glanced around to see if this could possibly be the right place. She figured she was only left with one option and walked to the end of the hall. Another small scanner was placed on the door next to the handle. She scrunched up her features to examine it, and as she got closer, she realized the door was propped open.

"Oh," she said surprised. Why would he leave his apartment door open?

She felt a little weird just walking in, but he had obviously left it open for a reason, and likely, that scanner function meant no one else could get inside. She shrugged, her confidence returning, and she pushed open the door.

What she found was not what she was expecting. Her green eyes scanned the ma.s.sive gla.s.s-domed room with an impeccable three-hundred-and-sixty degree view of the New York City skyline. An Olympic-sized swimming pool covered the majority of the open s.p.a.ce in the room. Two enormous hot tubs and a kiddie wading pool rested on both ends of the ma.s.sive pool. The pool itself had waves breaking in a clear V across the surface.

Chyna's eyes followed the form of the man doing a perfect b.u.t.terfly from one end to the other. He cut across the water cleaner than a shark fin and as fast as a dolphin. The water barely broke around him before he dove back under, his muscled shoulders pulling him effortlessly across the surface. Well, at least that explained the shoulders.

John reached the end of the pool, grasped the concrete end, and lifted his head out of the water. He took a few deep breaths as the water dripped down his soaking wet body. All Chyna could do was stare. It was like catching someone showering or jacking off. It was totally private, but somehow, it was kind of like they wanted you to see it.

She wasn't even nervous or anxious about the possibility of him catching her staring. She was just hot...and completely bothered in all the right ways. What the f.u.c.k were those tattoos exactly? From where she was standing at the moment, she could still only make out the two she saw at the basketball courts, but she was still too far away to read what they said.

John planted both hands down on the concrete ledge and gracefully lifted his body out of the water. Her eyebrows rose as she watched his back muscles ripple from the exertion, and then she noticed his tight a.s.s was covered by smooth black swim shorts. Turn around. Turn around. Turn around! She wanted to know what those shorts looked like from the front.

Her heel s.h.i.+fted on the squishy mat she was standing on, and it made some atrocious sound that broke the silence. John's head swiveled around quickly, noticing her standing there, but he didn't turn his whole body to her.

"Chyna," he said, "you got here fast. I thought I'd be done before then."

Uh huh. She was glad he wasn't. How else was she going to get to see him this naked? Also, tattoos! She could not get over those d.a.m.n tattoos. What did they say? Her tongue was ready to find out.

"I must have misjudged the time."

Uh huh.

"It's alright," she managed to get out. "I don't really have anywhere to be." Had she just said that? Yep. Why yes she had. And by. By the confident look on his face, he had been expecting it. a.s.s.

Just the way she liked them.

"You don't mind if I do a few more laps then, do you?" he asked with that same smile.

Oh, he was milking it.

"Of course not," she said. A few more laps on her. "I was just going to find another lame bar. My best friend is at the beach for the week and left me alone in this frigid weather. No one else is going out for another hour or two from what I've heard."

"Going out alone then?" he questioned, turning back toward the pool as if he was going to dive into its depths.

"Occupational hazard."

He chuckled as his hazel eyes found hers across the room. "Hard life."

"You've no idea," she said slowly, walking her heeled feet across the slightly slippery surface.

"You should take those off," he said, gesturing to her heels. "Don't want you breaking your ankle on my watch."

Chyna debated in her tipsy state. She was an expert at walking in heels. But, on a wet surface with her balance already a little thrown? Yeah, not a good idea. She slowly slipped out of one shoe and then the other, leaving them next to the door, before padding over to the side of the pool in her party dress and jacket. He straightened as she approached, and she tried to keep her mouth from hitting the floor. h.e.l.lo,front of bathing suit! She preferred her men well endowed, and-d.a.m.n!-just from a glance she knew that he wouldn't disappoint.

Trying to get her mind off of the present wrapped in s.h.i.+ny black polyester, her eyes landed on his ribcage. She was close enough now to read his tattoos and figured that was better than staring at his crotch.

"There are extra suits in the changing room," John told her.

"What?" she asked, glancing up into his eyes. Had he said something? She was trying to decipher a tattoo. Stop moving!

"Bathing suits. If you wanted to get in the pool," he offered.

"You want me to wear someone else's bathing suit?" she asked, crinkling her nose.

"They're clean," he rea.s.sured her. "They just have them for residents. I doubt they've ever been used. If I'm going to keep doing laps, then you should get in the pool or at least the hot tub."

Her eyes darted to the hot tub and back. Valid, valid point.

"Alright," she agreed.

When she reluctantly turned her back on John, she heard him chuckle faintly before he dove seamlessly into the water.

John was right. There was a collection of bathing suit pieces in a drawer in the dressing room. More than three-quarters of them still had a price tag on them. The amount had been removed, but it appeared as if they wanted to let you know that they were new. That's nice.

She slid her jacket off of her shoulders and placed it on a hook against the wall. Her dress followed as she pulled it over her head in one sweeping motion. She hung it next to her jacket. Hooking her fingers into her underwear, she removed those next and then unclasped her bra. She tossed them into an empty wicker basket. Grabbing a hair tie out of her purse, she knotted her long black hair into a messy bun at the top of her head. The last thing she wanted to do was try to find a way to blow-dry her hair if it got wet. Finally, she slid into a simple black bikini, tying the ends on the triangle top and bottoms.

When she walked back out of the changing room, John was sitting on the edge of the pool, breathing heavier than he had before. Actually, she had seen him swimming way faster than she ever could, and she hadn't even noticed his breathing. He must have been kicking his own a.s.s in her short absence.

She didn't make a sound as she approached him. His head was hanging forward, nearly between his knees, as his legs dangled over the edge of the pool into the water. She dipped her little toe into the water next to him and splashed some up into his lap. He jumped, kicking more water up. Chyna took a few skittish steps backward, not wanting to get her hair wet under any circ.u.mstances. When she saw he wasn't going to reciprocate, she walked forward and sat on the ledge next to him.

The water was warm, warmer than she thought it would be. It wasn't quite bath water, but it was refres.h.i.+ng and was probably cool against your skin after a good workout. She wondered how much he had to exercise in here to keep that body the way it was. A friend of hers was a swimmer and had always tried to convince her that it was the most amazing, impact-free exercise she would ever do. Chyna had gone once and decided to never go back because it had taken three showers to get the smell of chlorine off of her body.

"I love it up here," he finally said, breaking the silence.

Chyna tried not to look at him. They were too close together, and the tequila was still too strong in her body. "I can see why. It's peaceful. Is it always this quiet?"

"Unfortunately, no. Why do you think I'm up here so late at night? This place is swarming with children after school," he groaned.

"Makes sense," she said with a shrug, kicking her feet lightly in the water. "So...Global, huh?"

"Yeah, it's a pretty nice gig. How did you say you knew about them?"

"Everyone knows about them," she said, rolling her eyes.

He laughed, mirroring her feet in the water. "You mentioned that your mom worked for Corsa?"

"What do you know about Corsa?" Chyna asked, turning her face up to his.

He met her gaze. "Enough. What did your mom do for them?"

"She was a model. I mean, a supermodel," she said, waving her hands in the air like it meant nothing.

"Wow. Impressive. I've never met a supermodel."

Chyna smirked. "I find that hard to believe."

"They don't often venture to Flint, Michigan."

"You never see them around Global?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Maybe. Not much time to pay attention," he said casually. "So, is that what you want to do? I know you said you don't base your life on your career, but do you want to model like your mom?"

Chyna wavered on the topic. She hated the idea of following in someone's footsteps, but on the other hand, she really thought she would be good at it. "Yeah, I think I'd like to try it. Just need an in besides old Mommy Dearest. Kind of like to forge my own path, if you know what I mean."