All ONES: The Complete Collection

by Aleatha Romig

  “It’s just an apartment. I should apologize, because if I were thinking, there’d be a flower here—or two—one for the first night you spent here.”

  Kimbra’s head moves back and forth as she reaches for my face, holding my cheeks in the palms of her hands. “I don’t need flowers. I loved the ones you brought tonight to my place." She smiles shyly. "Bringing them over, creating a reason to visit...well, it felt special.”

  I reach for her waist and pull her closer. “Each one is special.”

  “Duncan, our bouquet is good.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “I want each experience to be special.”

  “It is,” she says with a chaste kiss. “Now show me around. This place is huge. I can’t wait to see your pink room.”

  “My pink room?” I ask, wondering what she means. “Is that like a red room toned down?”

  Kimbra laughs as she tugs my hand toward the windows. “No. I can’t believe you even know about a red room.” Her head moves with each word. “That. Is. Not. What. I. Meant.”

  “Okay, good to know. I mean, it doesn't have to be out of the question. It would take a few days to construct..." I pull my phone from my pocket. "...but don't underestimate my ability. Remember, I have Amazon Prime. First, we need to make a list: handcuffs, nipple clamps, one of those flip bars...”

  She shakes her head and slaps my shoulder. “Stop. I don't even want to know how you know any of that. When you were in my childhood bedroom, you said you had a pink room with a canopy.”

  “Oh,” I say with a laugh. “I did, but I don’t.”

  “Is there anything else you’d like to confess?”

  I shrug. “I’m not against the other option. I mean this app needs to be good for something.” I show her my screen. "They have a starter kit!"

  Her head moves back and forth faster.

  “Come on, I agree a starter kit may not be the way to go, but that shopping list was kind of hot. Admit it."

  "No."

  A laugh rumbles from my chest. "Fine. Come this way.” I lead her toward the windows, open the balcony door, and lead her outside.

  “Duncan, this view is breathtaking.”

  I pull her close and look down into her shining blue eyes as loose strands of her hair float around her face. City sounds combine with the music coming through the open door as a cool evening breeze surrounds us. Tucking an auburn strand behind her ear, I couldn't agree more. “Yes. It’s absolutely breathtaking. I’ve been breathless for nearly three years."

  She cuddles toward my chest.

  “Are you cold?” I wrap her in my arms and pull her against me. “We can go inside.”

  “No.” Her voice is muffled against my shirt. “I don’t ever want to move.”

  My cheeks rise at the perfect way she fits in my embrace. I kiss the top of her head. “I’d like that too. But I promised you a king-sized bed and something about coming...”

  Her gaze glistens as she looks up. “I think you've accomplished that more than once.”

  “If memory serves, not since last night. That's too long of a dry spell. I'll never manage that soreness we discussed with such a light schedule.”

  “You have, but I like your persistence.”

  I kiss her lips, softly at first, but as the city twinkles below and the faint stars shine above, it deepens. When we finally separate, she rests her head against my chest, sighs, and holds tightly to my waist. We stand unmoving for a few minutes as her body melts toward mine.

  I kiss her hair again. “I have an idea.”

  “You do? As long as it doesn't involve Amazon Prime, we're good.”

  "You really need to give that idea more consideration. Our list could entail anything. They sell everything!"

  Kimbra stifles a yawn as she shakes her head. "We can look...I mean, it isn't as though I don't have an electric toothbrush."

  "You do?" I ask surprised.

  "Enough. What's your idea?"

  “We’ve both had a long day...” I reach for her hand and entwine our fingers. “Come this way.”

  I lead her back into the penthouse, pointing out the obvious—kitchen, office, workout room, and library—until we reach the master bedroom. “And here it is.”

  Kimbra runs the tips of her fingers over the beige comforter as she inspects the footboard. “Who does your laundry?”

  “That’s a strange question.”

  She nods as her smile grows. “Whoever they are, they seem to have faded your pink bedspread.” She looks toward the ceiling. "And someone stole your canopy."

  “Yes, that’s what happened.”

  She walks to the window. “Is this another balcony?”

  “The same. They’re connected.”

  “Duncan, this is lovely. It’s so big.”

  I smirk.

  Kimbra giggles. “This is where you say…'that’s what they all say.'”

  “I would, but like I told you, I haven’t brought many women here.”

  “This whole place…why? Why have so much space and not use it?”

  I don’t answer; instead, I open the door to the walk-in closet. “I’ll get your suitcase in a minute and you can hang your dresses in here.” I then walk to the open door to the bathroom. “And here is where that toothbrush goes.”

  “Really? I usually keep it in the bedside drawer.”

  It's my turn to shake my head. She's so damn cute. And then I have the vision of her and her vibrator—otherwise known as her toothbrush. "Remember the striptease you did for me?"

  "Yes."

  "I think I'd enjoy watching you brush your teeth."

  "There's a problem. I didn't bring it. Earlier today I was specifically told not to use it."

  "Who would demand something so personal as poor oral hygiene?"

  "I believe it was my—"

  "Boyfriend. Say it, Kimbra. Say it aloud, not to your family, but here, to me. We left pretend and make-believe in Indiana. Say it so I know you believe this is real."

  Her blue eyes scan my bedroom and then me. The silence grows. Just as I'm about to speak, she does.

  "My boyfriend."

  My grin quirks. "Who is that?"

  "You."

  I step toward her, making her take a step backward. We repeat the process until she's backed against the wall. "My name?"

  "Duncan...Duncan Willis."

  With her caged between my arms and my body pressed against hers, I use my most commanding tone. "All together, Miss Jones. The whole thing."

  She swallows as her blue gaze locks on mine. "Duncan Willis is my boyfriend. I'm his girlfriend. And this is real."

  Her reward is a lingering kiss. As her body melts against mine, I pull away, reach for the bathroom light switch, and press the button. “My idea was this…” I point toward the rarely used garden tub. When I turn back to Kimbra, her expression tells me she agrees.

  “Oh, Duncan, that sounds heavenly.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Kimbra settles her sexy round ass between my spread legs as the warm bubbly water laps over her breasts and she leans back against my chest.

  “Ah…” she sighs.

  Her hair is piled high on top of her head, and I can’t resist kissing her long, slender neck.

  “Why do you have such a large apartment if you never share it?”

  “I share it. My parents and brother come over. Mike, Kel, and the kids visit.”

  She cranes her neck to look at me. “You have a brother?"

  "I do..."

  She rubs her hands up and down my legs as I talk about Trevor and tell her more about my family. She laughs at some of the stories from our childhood. He's only two years younger than I am, but in reality, we're nothing alike. He's a successful engineer who spends his days constructing bridges that go from figures to sketches, to models, to giant structures. Where I see logistics, distribution, and markets, he sees construction and infrastructure. He makes a good living, but wealth was never his dream, much like our
parents.

  Kimbra's response time slows as we lie in the warm water with only music and the faint popping of bubbles as our backdrop. For a moment I think she’s fallen asleep, when she quietly asks, “You did it, didn’t you?”

  “Got the most amazing woman I know into my tub? I most certainly did.”

  “No,” she says, not looking at me. “You accomplished everything the agency scout promised Tessa. The airplane, big house, and money.”

  Her words zap me. It's the truth I’ve hidden. “I didn't do this for her. I have no desire to ever have her back. Don’t ever think I do. We were just kids.”

  Kimbra's soapy hand stills on my kneecap beside her.

  “I don’t think that. I think you had a goal after you put yourself back together. It just happened that Mike had a similar dream for a different reason.”

  I swallow the response.

  I don’t know how it happened, but somehow, Kimberly Ann Jones sees the void I’ve carried around for years. And in seeing it, she is filling it.

  I run my hands over her stomach and breasts as her head falls backward. “Kimbra, I don’t usually talk about this...but I want to.” I kiss her hair. “You make me do all sorts of things I don’t usually do.”

  “I'm quite fond of many of the things you do. I’ll tell you which is my favorite in the morning.”

  I take a deep breath. “I didn’t realize what I was doing at first, what my goal was or why I'd set out to accomplish it. I don’t even think Mike knew. We both wanted success. It was my mom who made the connection. It took her years. Yet, in a matter of days, you did too.”

  “I-I…”

  “I’m glad,” I say honestly.

  "Do you think she knows?"

  I close my eyes. "I don't care."

  "Duncan, you're successful. Buchanan and Willis is international. It wouldn't be hard for her to learn—"

  I cut her off. "That may have been part of my motivation when Mike and I began our endeavor, but it isn't any longer. I no longer cringe when her face shows up on a movie screen or in a magazine. She had an impact on my life, but it's over."

  "Has she married? Had kids?"

  I grip her shoulders. "I don't know. She keeps her personal and professional life separated. The thing is that I don't care. I could find out if I wanted to. I don't.

  "I want to be truthful with you, Kimbra. I want you to know me, the real me. And I want the same from you. I think it was your family. Seeing you there. You allowed me to see that side of you, one that's so real, so different than the fantastic, polished professional.” My grip morphs to an embrace as I hug her tightly against my chest. “You trusted me with the real you. I want to trust you with the real me.”

  When I loosen the embrace, she slowly spins to her knees in front of me, causing the water to slosh around the tub. Once we’re facing one another, she cocks her head to the side. “It’s time for the real truth, the make-or-break deal. Are you ready?”

  I nod, unsure where this will go.

  “Peanut butter or jelly?”

  I smile at the way she can make everything casual and fun, and then I find my serious tone. “Alone, definitely jelly. I can do peanut butter if they’re together, but even then, it has to be creamy and only on white bread.”

  “Yes!” she proclaims. “I agree. Why have healthy bread with peanut butter and jelly?”

  Our lips find one another. Her amazing, bubble-covered tits slide over my chest. As my hands roam, her nipples bead.

  “Ride me, baby.”

  Our legs move until she’s over me. As we come together, her head falls to my shoulder.

  “Oh,” she murmurs.

  This feels different, like the signing of a deal. I gave her my true self and she did the same. With those realities floating around us, we're sealing the agreement. There’s no urgency as we move to a slower melody.

  As Kimbra allows my hands on her hips to choreograph this new dance and her eyes fill with heavy lust, I know the difference. I’m not fucking Kimbra. We’re making love.

  By the time we dry off and fall onto my soft sheets, we’re both exhausted.

  “I know this isn’t the smaller bed of your childhood room, but I don’t plan to let you get too far away.”

  “Hmm,” she agrees as she settles into my embrace, her back to my front.

  The scent of shampoo and hairspray fill my senses as I nuzzle against her soft hair.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she says, her voice soft just before her breathing evens and body goes limp.

  “Good night, Kimberly Ann,” I whisper, though I know she’s already sleeping. “What have you done to me?”

  I lie awake for a few moments with her question about Tessa bouncing through my head. For one of the first times I can remember, I’m where I want to be. I may have made poor decisions along the way, but if Tessa or the woman in the bathroom or anyone else led me to now, to Kimbra, I’d do it all again.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kimbra

  As the car that arrived for Duncan at precisely seven this morning moves through Midtown traffic, he reaches for my hand. "I like riding to work together...and having breakfast with you...and waking up next to you."

  The sweet ache in my core reminds me that we did more than wake. My gaze flies forward from Duncan to the back of Pierce's head and returns to Duncan. "Duncan?"

  He shakes his head. "Get used to it, beautiful. Pierce, Jorge, they see all and know all."

  "Jorge?" I think of the way he'll look at me now. I'll no longer be scary Kimbra, but...what? Mr. Willis's latest...

  Duncan's rambling talk doesn't help my nerves.

  "Oh, yes," he goes on. "He'll figure out quickly enough that every time you're summoned to my office, I turn the glass opaque."

  "I-I can't..."

  "But you know those sexy noises you make that I like so much?" Before I can answer, he goes on. "I should tell you that the glass isn't soundproof."

  I shake my head. "No. It isn't happening. Not at work. No."

  I remember the saying about protesting too much. Besides, the way Duncan's eyes twinkle makes me want to reconsider my objection. I guess...if the glass is opaque...

  "Seriously," he goes on, "I've looked at my schedule for today. As much as I'd love to bend you over my desk..."

  "Stop." I need him to quit saying that or those thoughts will consume my mind all day long.

  "As much as I'd love that, I'm going to be swamped. I was uncharacteristically absent for a day and a half followed by a three-day weekend."

  "Should I apologize for that?"

  "No," he says. "But you could agree to a date tonight."

  "A date?"

  Duncan lifts my hand as we near the office building. "Our first real date. What do you say, Miss Jones?" He lowers his lips to my knuckles. "Will you consider a date with me?"

  My heart flutters. "I'll give it some serious consideration."

  He leans closer so Pierce can't hear. "And after the date, I was thinking I'd bring you back to my place—"

  "Oh, no!" I say, feigning shock. "I do not go back to someone's house on the first date."

  "Then that will require some thought." He kisses my cheek. "And negotiation. I plan to be very persuasive."

  "I have heard that about you."

  "It's one rumor that you should believe. Either way, I'm taking you out on a real date and we will end up back at my place."

  I like the finality of his tone as well as the idea of negotiating. I'm most certain that no matter my qualms, I'll end up back in his big penthouse, on his big bed, with his big....

  The car slows and I pull my thoughts away from the erotic as my nerves catch up to the reality that I'm walking into Buchanan and Willis with Mr. Willis. "I know we talked about this, but maybe Pierce could drive me around the block and we could pretend—"

  His finger touches my lips. "Miss Jones, we'll keep it professional while at work, except when I have you alone in my office, but under no circums
tances will there be pretending. We left that behind, remember?"

  Oh, I remember.

  The door opens and sunlight floods the scene as coworkers hurry past, seemingly oblivious to another black car with a driver. I tell myself it is commonplace on the streets of Midtown. Duncan takes my hand and helps me from the car.

  "How about a coffee?" he asks as we enter the foyer. "I was going to buy one for myself and I figured how about mine, plus-one?"

  My cheeks rise. "Thank you, Mr. Willis. I promise not to spill it on you."

  "Deal."

  Nearly fifteen minutes later, Duncan gives me a sexy smile as we silently leave the crowded elevator and turn our separate directions. As I step to my desk, the scene where only five days ago Mr. Duncan Willis came to escort me away, I have new, bigger concerns.

  "Kimbra," my manager says, stepping up behind me, "there's a meeting in my office in five. I need you there."

  I take a deep breath, scanning my desk as my computer comes to life. Immediately my gaze goes to my accumulated emails. Usually when I take time off, I check in to the office. Maybe it was because I was with the boss or maybe because he occupied my every thought—it doesn't matter. The fact remains that while we were gone, the HR business of Buchanan and Willis was not on my mind. As a consequence, I now have nearly three hundred emails staring me in the face, at least half with the urgent symbol beside them.

  "Okay," I reply. "I'll be there."

  The coffee from the downstairs shop is still warm as I grab my laptop and the covered cup and make my way to Eric's office.

  I've always liked and respected Eric Jettson. He's a balding, middle-aged man with a dry sense of humor. He's straight to the point and perfect for his job as the manager in charge of our department. As I think back, I realize that he was the first person I met at Buchanan and Willis, the one who hired me.

  I step inside his office, surprised to see not only Eric, but also the other two HR specialists sitting at a small conference table. "Did something happen?" I ask as I set my laptop and coffee on the table and settle into my seat.

  "I emailed you Saturday night." Eric turns to the table. "Has everyone had a chance to review the accusation?"

  My chest tightens. In the almost three years I've been with this company, I've never attended a meeting unprepared. I look up and make eye contact with Mr. Jettson. "Eric, I was out of town at my cousin's wedding. I'm not up to date."