Episode 3: Territorial

Episode 3: Territorial

Eddie wasn't very ecstatic about the idea of his best friend spending so much time with a man she barely knew.

"What if he's secretly a psycho? I don't mean to judge but for someone who writes the types of books he does it has to stem from somewhere you know?"

"Wow. You really are freaking out if you're saying something horrible like that." Leslie chewed on the strawberry she had just dipped in chocolate.

He looked away just in time to see her red lips wrapping around the fruit and sucking.

"What I'm saying is—"

His pupils stilled before his hand went up to scratch at his head nervously in thought. "Wait, what was I saying?"

She couldn't help but crack up at that.

"Jeez, Ed. If you don't know what to say don't say anything at all. I promise I'll be safe."

"I hope that's not in the way I'm virtually dreading."

Her brows raised at his insinuation.

"I wouldn't sleep with him even if he begged me to."

Eddie rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by her lying. "Says the girl who has each and every book he's ever published stacked neatly in the corner of her room like a goddamn shrine."

"I appreciate his art. Is that a problem? That doesn't mean I would get with him at the first chance."

"Maybe not the first but who knows about the second? Or third?" He walked away towards the kitchen to grab a beer and she bent her head at an awkward angle to shout.

"Just because you like the colourful wrapping paper, it doesn't mean you'll feel the same way about the gift inside!"

"Whoah, calm down. I don't know if you're trying to convince me or yourself with all these analogies. It's only making the situation more awkward and frankly it doesn't ease my worries one bit."

"I'll make sure to bring my pepper spray." She batted her eyelashes at him.

"That doesn't do shit these days. Don't you know how much perverts have evolved over time?"

She huffed. "Okay, fine. I bought a stun gun the other day. I guess I'll finally be able to put it to good use."

"See? You're already talking as if he is a pervert."

Her lips pursed at her mistake.

"I meant in the context that he is a pervert, Ed. Don't twist my words. It's my biggest pet peeve when someone does that."

"Whatever. Just don't fall asleep in his company. At that point you'll really be vulnerable to anything."

"Okay, I'm gonna end this conversation right here." She hopped off the couch and made her way to her bedroom.

"You're only saying that to go read another one of his books, aren't you? Just how lonely are you, Leslie Quinn?"

"What do you expect when I don't have the time to date anyone! Leave me to fantasize in peace and possibly touch myself in between the sheets."

She caught sight of his mouth falling open, a deep blush painting his cheeks.

"You're disgusting!"

Her chuckles filled the space as she skipped to her bedroom, closing the door and getting lost in another one of her favorite books.

She had always wanted to write one of her own.

Technically, it wasn't an impossible dream for her with her educational achievements but it was too time-consuming. It didn't help that she didn't know what to write about in the first place either. You know that feeling of wanting to write something great and touching which the world could relate to but it just didn't work out on paper as well as it did in your mind? Yes, that's what the girl was faced with every time she attempted to create anything by herself.

That was one of the main reasons why she was always impressed by authors like Christopher Wells.

He practically tossed out novels like Oprah gave away cars—and in great fashion too.

It was simply amazing.

How he found the time and creativity to do it was a mystery.

His mind was practically that of a genius for tying his characters together in the way that he always did too.

Many people looked down on mature books or eroticas but what they didn't know was a handful of them were actually substantially different. The complexity within these plots was a difficult thing to unravel. They had just as much thought and efforts put into them as any other genre did. The special thing about Christopher's novels was that they proved all that and more to the wider society.

They manifested the belief that such books which were frowned upon had a place on that shelf. Just like any sci-fi or thriller work, they too deserved praise and respect given to them.

She referred to what he was doing as 'sexploration'.

For both him and his readers.

He was an undefeated champion at that and on lonely days it was what kept her alive.

With that mindset Leslie got to enjoy the sweeter things in life and her newest one to the collection had her new enemy's name written all over it.

Intentionally disregarding his name on the front of the cover, she flipped to the book mark and picked up where she had left off.

The next morning Leslie had arrived early to the address which she had been given from the office as Christopher Wells'.

Her mouth couldn't close the entire time when she drove up to the private complex. It was a towering building on the Upper East Side in Manhattan with security which had been a total headache. The penthouse served as an indicator of wealth and power, a symbol of its owner's almost mythical level of lavish living. Leslie kept her mouth from drooling as she stood by the front door at the top floor.

As her brain started to stray away from reality, the door to the room flew open.

She looked up and there Christopher Wells stood, staring down at her with those blue eyes touched by storm clouds.

The woman started to wonder if there would be a day in which it would clear into a calm sea.

"Get in."

Okay, maybe not, she thought matching his grumpiness.

Ducking underneath his arm, she made her way into his apartment. It was just as expensive-looking as the rest of the building and she couldn't help staring in admiration.

Straight in front of her was a lounge area with chairs and a coffee table. To the far right of that was a tall, floor to ceiling bookshelf which covered the entire area of the wall. Each shelf was full to the brim with all different types of books. The labels which have been placed respectively for categorization told that much. Her fingers twitched with the need to explore each and every one of them.

"Follow me."

Did he only know how to dish out commands?

It was getting on her last nerves and she had only been here for less than five minutes.

His place had a modern interior design, a colour scheme of black and white being the most prominent.

What stood out the most was how neatly arranged everything was and she found herself singing in joy.

Eddie could learn a thing or two, her inner derision of her friend was cut short as he halted at the kitchen.

With an expressionless face, he asked. "Would you like anything to drink? A preferable beverage perhaps?"

Her attitude faltered a bit at him actually trying to be civil.

"Um...a glass of water would be nice."

He nodded, walking behind the lengthy island. "Room temperature or cold?"

"Room temperature please. Cold water upsets my stomach way too much."

With a nimble movement, he made his way to the container to pour it out in a glass.

"Thank you." She said when he handed it to her.

His eyes showed a sign of temporary restlessness when their fingers brushed momentarily.

He pulled back quickly, almost as if he had been burnt.

She flushed, wondering if she truly was that unpleasant in his eyes?

He drew for a cup she hadn't noticed on the counter before taking a sip of the contents. The lines in his forehead cleared almost as if it was some kind of stress reliever.

"I'll show you to your office then."

Her office? Had he emptied out an entire room to make it her office while working here?

Wow.

She didn't want to be touched but the feeling came full force.

It was a room big enough to have been one's own during childhood. It had been cleared out and only a table, chair, stack of blank papers and other stationary were present.

"Is it to your liking?" He waited for her to look at him and she gave in easily.

"Well, it's big enough."

"I like spacious rooms. I have a stigma against small spaces."

She gave him an odd look at how his eyes glossed over in deep thought.

"I think it would do just fine, Mr. Wells. Thank you." She decided to be honest in order not to draw this out any longer than necessary.

Being in his company gave her the chills and at that moment she couldn't decipher if they were the bad or good kind.

His face remained stoic as he simply brought the coffee to his lips and took a tentative sip.

"I compiled the manuscripts in order on the table over there. If you need anything between sorting everything out, you can find me at the room down the hall to the right. That is only if you have no other alternative. Think twice before coming to that conclusion. I don't take interruptions well."

Her lips made a thin line at that. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

He nodded stiffly before disappearing out the room.

Only twenty minutes in, Leslie felt the need to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately, she didn't know where it was. It was frustrating to say the least because the man had made it clear he didn't want to be interrupted if it wasn't anything important.

The woman didn't know if her bladder counted as worthy of that in his opinion.

So despite not knowing how to make her way around the maze of his penthouse, her feet carried her on the quest of finding the bathroom. It shouldn't be that big of a challenge with how big this place was; that increased the chances of finding one. He probably had three bathrooms in this place.

Okay, that was a stretch.

He had at least two.

Amidst her search, the woman's ears picked up the sound of music playing nearby. As curious as ever, she made her way over to the room silently.

Peeping from outside the door, she saw Christopher sitting in the middle of what looked like another office. But it was more personalized. It was his office.

Her eyes caught the vinyl record which carefully spun with the stylus attached to it, resting in the beginning of one of the groves.

The room was being flooded with the soft music of a violin playing. The crescendo building up in the instrument reminded her of a sunrise's burst. One she was blessed enough to witness after waking up from a sweet dream. Her auditory senses were tingling in delight. She had always been a fan of classical music, even took classes for the cello as a young child.

Her lips parted before she knew it.

"What is it that you're playing?"

His eyes snapped up quickly.

She marveled at the pressure within them as he contemplated whether to answer her or not.

"It's the Concerto No. 5 in A Major by Mozart. Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It sounds like a roller coaster of emotions." She replied after a minute's time of prolonged curiosity to hear more.

"But yes, it's beautiful."

"You have a rather keen ear." he said, lips twitching in amusement. And for a fleeting moment, he appeared nothing like the ice king she had made him out to be. A light was shining in his eyes, genuine and enthralling. It was almost as if it was calling out to her. Did he really like classical pieces that much? Enough to break his now seemingly facade of being unfazed by everything?

He took a seat back in his chair, fingers confronting the keyboard of his laptop. His eyes shone with renewed vigor and as the music played in the background it was almost as if the slender strings were caressing his fingers. They were gentle yet held a justified speed with how much practice he's had typing. The noticeable tenderness spread through the room, from the vinyl to his fingers and was later transferred onto pages.

The woman was having a fangirl moment when she realized she was witnessing history in the making.

The second the woman stepped further inside, she felt his cold blue eyes watching her every move. The sound of his typing came to an end. She tried not to make eye contact. As Leslie walked over and toyed with the little things in his personal space, his voice projected through the air.

"Do you need anything?"

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight. She bit down onto the bottom of her lip, eyes betraying her as they danced at the image of him no matter how discontented he looked.

"I was searching for the bathroom."

"Two doors down to the left." He swiftly replied almost as if he couldn't wait to get rid of her.

She internally frowned.

"Aren't you going to leave?"

"No."

"No?"

"I'll leave when I want to." She said over the music which was getting louder and louder.

"You're simply being unreasonable, Miss Quinn. Don't deny your body nature's course because of stubbornness."

"I'll be fine. I have a bladder of steel."

It was his turn to frown. "Somehow I find that hard to believe." Then his eyes traveled down to the shifting of her legs on one feet to the next.

She shot him a glare.

His eyes narrowed at the unflattering mood.

"Have you already forgotten rule number two, Miss Quinn? It's that you don't invade my personal space. Even more so when I'm working. If you don't want to get on my wrong side I advise you to leave this instant."

Genuinely terrified by his appearance in that moment her eyes widened in fear.

Turning for the exit, she pretended to be unbothered. "I'm only leaving because I want to."

He didn't say anything back.

After successfully finding the bathroom, Leslie found herself sitting back down in her seat.

It didn't take long before she felt her heart rate suddenly increase as her eyes scanned the sentences which followed.

Suddenly dizzied by her half-nakedness, he took a deep breath. Joseph felt himself struggle with the dark passions which erupted inside of him. If he were to be honest, seeing her in baggy pants and sweats could've still turned him on.

She was that great of a magnetic force.

Heart thumping within her ears Leslie continued on.

The intensity of his brown eyes raised her heart rate further when he drew for the bowl of chocolate.

Maybe it was the adrenaline but something was building her arousal and she proudly basked in the attention he gave her. His thumb drew slow circles on her hip and then moved up her side to her ribs.

With a question in his eyes, he gazed at her before falling victim to it.

"Have you ever had the pleasure of a man's tongue all over your body?"

She flushed as he dipped a finger in the bowl and began to drag it across her jaw. He forcibly pulled her head back by the high ponytail she wore. And just like that, he sealed his lips over hers. His tongue slowly explored her mouth and she moaned at the feel of it. With the texture of him and the sweet taste of the dessert she was on the verge of combustion.

"Oh my god." Leslie began to fan at her face because of how overwhelmed she was.

This man was insane.

Christopher that was.

How could he manage to create something like this and made it affect her as if she was in the situation herself?

She felt flushed.

What made matters worse was that he had incorporated one of her fantasies into this scene.

Just acknowledging that had ignited a new dawning hunger inside of her.

What she was currently staring at in this moment was a new experience, even for someone with a scandalous and sex-filled reputation like hers. Well at least in the past she had.

Leslie wasn't one to be turned on by the brains of a man but Christopher was testing her limits. It was like the more she learnt and read from him, the more it was proving her to be leaning towards the sapiosexual side.

"What are your thoughts on what you've read so far?" She jumped at the sound of his deep voice.

Her head tilted up at him, deep and catastrophic eyes drinking her in.

The way he regarded her with strong arched brows awaiting her response should be illegal.

This close, she could see every little detail from the tiny beauty mark below his eyes. He had distinct cheekbones and an angular jaw, pale skin making him look devilishly handsome.

After careful consideration his finger—only the tip—reached out and poked at her shoulder to get her attention.

When she had caught his adorably confused expression, Leslie had realized something groundbreaking.

Fuck it, I'm attracted to Christopher Wells.