It happened suddenly and entirely without warning. One moment she was completely focused on the debate they were having about the future of North Korea, and the next she was idly wondering what his hands would feel like wrapped around her waist and whether those freckled arms would have the strength to lift her off the floor as he fucked her against a wall.
Amanda blinked a few times, trying to clear her head without giving away the images that were intruding into her thoughts. They were seated around the coffee table in Kate's living room, chatting over a game of Texas Hold 'Em. Amanda wasn't playing; she was sitting in one corner of the couch with her bare feet tucked under the sweeping skirt of the dress she'd worn to the party. The men were seated around the far half of the coffee table, occupying the other portion of the L-shaped couch, two chairs, and the floor. Daniel was directly across from her, perched on the edge of his chair, alternating between hypotheses about the circumstances that would be needed for a regime change in the isolated Asian dictatorship and snarky comments about the cards he held.
As she watched him, Daniel continually deconstructed and reconstructed a pile of about 10 chips with one hand as the other players made their bets. Amanda was gathering herself to make a point about the power of the North Korean military leaders when she was arrested by another distracting mental flash, this time a visualization of Daniel's lips and tongue against the intersection of her neck and shoulder as his hand wandered up her inner thigh toward her rapidly-moistening sex. Her argument died in her throat as it suddenly went dry.
She licked her lips in an effort to stave off the sudden desert that had overtaken her mouth. All of the moisture had apparently migrated directly south, as she could feel herself starting to dampen the pair of satin panties she was wearing. Giving up rejoining the conversation for the moment, as the men had finished betting on their hole cards and were avidly considering the three that constituted the flop, Amanda studied the man who had so unexpectedly drawn her attention in such a dramatic way.
She had always liked Daniel Hartford, appreciating both his intelligence and his wry sense of humor. He was a programmer, and she had just enough experience of her own in that discipline that they could talk about his work without her feeling like a complete idiot. She found his green eyes, the smattering of freckles splashed across his cheeks, and the boyish smile he inevitably wore while destroying opponents in whatever game they were playing all very attractive - all of that was nothing new. But she had never before looked at him and felt the intense desire that was painting a flush across her cheekbones and spreading warmth through her lower abdomen.
She was not, she thought wryly to herself, really his type. He tended to hook up, rather than date, and his hook-ups were generally tall and thin, and they were often blondes who were only slightly smarter than your average box of rocks. She, on the other hand, was just shy of five foot five, had dark brown hair that brushed her collarbones, and had a very round rear end to go with the generous hips that flared out from beneath her small waist. Hooking up was not really Amanda's style, and she definitely thought that she could give Daniel a run for his money intellectually. No, she was certainly not his type. Why then, was she, after being friends with him for almost five years, suddenly overcome with the desire to rip open the button-down shirt he was wearing and run her hands all over him? It was inexplicable and, quite frankly, idiotic.
Amanda suddenly realized she'd been staring at him for the better part of several minutes. Her gaze left the cuffs of his rolled-up sleeves and the forearms whose freckles she had been contemplating earlier and settled, seemingly of its own accord, on Daniel's face. She was startled to find his eyes gazing back at hers, his mouth quirked to one side, with a somewhat quizzical expression on his face. She tore her eyes away, fearing that somehow she had revealed to him every dirty image in her head, including the one that even now, was searing itself into her mind's eye - Daniel, kneeling on the floor with one of her legs thrown over his shoulder, hungrily devouring her clit as he slowly thrust two fingers in and out of her. She fought to keep her breathing under control as she clenched the hemline of her dress with one hand and smoothed her hair behind her ear with the other. She scolded herself for being so easily flustered and made up her mind to focus her thoughts back on the game that was being played.
As she looked around the table, she could see that Daniel had the largest pile of chips in front of him, followed by Brian who was sitting next to him with a slightly smaller stack. All but Daniel and Brian folded, muttering about lousy cards, and the two men faced off over the four cards already dealt face up. Amanda hadn't been paying attention to the earlier betting, so she didn't know who was in a stronger position. Brian appeared to be contemplating his bet while Daniel waited, so she guessed it had been he. Her attention was drawn to Daniel's restless movement of his chips, and her focus drifted back up to his mouth, which was still smirking, to his nose, which had its own dusting of freckles across the bridge, and finally to those green, green eyes which were - damn it! - definitely smiling directly at her.
Amanda felt hot all over. Why was he smiling? Had her thoughts been written so obviously across her face? Was there something in her teeth or in another equally embarrassing place that was causing him amusement? She didn't know, but she had to extract herself from the situation before she exploded. She rose to her feet and excused herself to the bathroom.
Her walk to the bathroom took her around the side of the coffee table and behind the chair where Daniel was sitting. As Brian scooped up the chips that he had obviously won from the hand that had just finished, and the other men at the table congratulated him for making such a big dent in Daniel's stack, Daniel twisted around in his chair and gently grabbed Amanda by the wrist, enveloping nearly half the length of her forearm in his large hand. She stopped short, taken aback.
"Hey," he said, giving her the same lopsided grin that he so often used to turn on the charm for hot girls at the bars their group of friends usually frequented, "could you grab me another Corona on your way back?"
"Sure," she replied, silently congratulating herself on not allowing the pounding of her heart to betray itself by making her voice tremble, "no problem."
As he released her arm, Amanda could swear she felt every nerve ending tingle as he slowly dragged his index finger down the inside of her wrist and to the center of her palm before he said, "thanks," and drew his hand back entirely and turned to face the coffee table once again.
Amanda forced herself not to sprint down the hallway as she headed for the bathroom. It was, distressingly, closed, indicating that someone else was already there. She wiped damp palms against the fabric at her hips and tried to calm her racing heartbeat by taking deep breaths. In and out...in and out...she met with only marginal success, but it was progress. She tried to think rationally. What the hell was going on? Had Daniel been
flirting
with her? They didn't really have that kind of friendship. They weren't even particularly touchy or affectionate - not usually, anyway. Amanda breathed a sigh of relief as the bathroom door opened.
"Sorry," said Kate as she exited, "didn't mean to hold you up - Sherlock got in after me, and I had to corral him before I could leave." By way of illustration, she held up the squirming bundle of black and white fur that was her cat.
"No worries," Amanda began, trailing off as her friend disappeared back down the hallway toward the living room, "it's fine..."
She hurried into the bathroom, pushing the door behind her. She put both hands on the edge of the vanity and stared into the bowl of the sink, still trying to focus on steadying her breathing. She had just gotten herself back into what felt like a regular rhythm when she heard the unmistakable "click" of the door closing and locking automatically. She lifted her head and, as she looked into the mirror, felt her heart leap into her throat as her eyes met Daniel's vibrant green ones.
She whirled to face him and found herself pinned against the edge of the bathroom counter, their bodies not quite touching, his hands resting just outside hers on the corners of the vanity. He was a good deal taller than she was, and she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. She could feel her pulse racing as she gazed up at him. Did she trust herself to speak?
"What are you doing?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper. She was using every ounce of her self-control to stop herself from touching him, from acting on the wild fantasies filling her head, from ducking under his arm and dashing out the door, from spontaneously combusting due to the heat spreading outward from her core.
"You were watching me." It wasn't a question. "You were thinking about me."
She started to deny it. "No, I was just..."
He cut her off. "Do you know how I know that you were watching me and thinking about me?"
