by Scott, S. L.
I like that job. A lot. But I’d give it up if it meant we could pick up where we left off earlier tonight in bed. “I’m sorry.” Pressing my face into the corner of the door, I whisper, “I’m sorry I lied,” hoping he can hear me.
Stepping back, I wait a few more minutes, silently begging him, willing him to open the door. When he doesn’t, I decide I need to walk away. Not for me, but to give him the peace he’s seeking.
I bypass the elevator and push through into the stairwell. It’s only one flight down, but I’m dragging my feet. When I swing open the door to my floor, I stop. Down the hall on the right, long and muscular legs in fitness shorts stretch before him with sneakers on his feet. His T-shirt hanging loose around his torso might be the most casual I’ve ever seen him dressed. He wears it well like everything else.
Drew might be the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on, but his mood permeates the hallway. His presence fills wherever he exists, and it’s easy to get consumed by it. Right now, I’m willing to take the chance.
The door comes flying closed and whacks me in the ass, sending me stumbling forward. “Ow!” Graceful.
He turns, and the recognition filling his eyes has him scrambling to his feet as fast as he can. “Where have you been?” There’s no harsh tone but one of worry.
I rub my ass and then toward him. “I’ve been waiting for you upstairs. I knocked. A lot. Probably disturbed your neighbors. After a while, I finally came back down.”
“The same.”
I cover the last few feet and ask, “For how long?” Call me a romantic, but it matters.
“Until you opened the door.”
I’m not sure I’m doing a good job of hiding my smile when I twist my lips to the side, but at least, I’m trying. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I was an asshole, and I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
“You weren’t—”
“I am, actually. I’m an asshole in life, a miserable jerk who cares more about a company than my own life. But you know what, Juni?”
I’m surprised to be having this conversation so quickly, so honestly, so easily. That has to be a good sign if we’re trusting in those sorts of things. And I do. I lean on the wall across from him. “What?”
“I’m not such an asshole with you. And I don’t mean to you, if you can momentarily forget my behavior upstairs, but to everyone because of you. You make me less annoyed with the world. You make me see the little things, the important things, everything I ignored before.” He steps closer, but each is tentative. “Instead of getting upset, I should have given you the benefit of the doubt. I’m sure you have a good reason for not telling me you live here.”
Glancing back, he scans the door and the wreath hanging on the outside. It’s dusty, and I should have packed that away, but my grandmother loved it, so here it’s stayed. I pull my key from my pocket and move forward, knowing I’m totally letting him into my small corner of the world if he’ll stay. “Actually, I don’t have a good reason, other than you called me a stalker on day one, so I did everything I could to make you believe otherwise.” I roll my eyes just listening to myself admit that out loud. “You know, like a stalker would do.”
Shoving the key in the knob, I unlock it and open the door.
But then he does more than I could ever ask of him. He says, “I was willing to wait all night for you. I think I’m the stalker, after all.” He takes the heat off me. I might have hearts in my eyes. Fine, I do.
“Since you know where I live, psycho, come on in?”
“I’d like that, but first, I hope you accept my apology for how I treated you. So many excuses from being tired to realizing you’re the one who has kept me up so many nights with your cooking concerts to the lie have run through my head. But I failed to acknowledge my part in all this.”
Taking my hand in his, he brings it to his mouth to kiss, and then again. “I’m sorry, Juni, and I’m sorry for not making you feel safe to share the truth. I never thought you were a stalker.” The smirk comes first in a direct hit to my knees. Why does he have to be so good at everything, including weakening me? Then the wink. “But,” he says, playing it off in that non-bragging but totally bragging way, “you’re not the first woman to follow me home.”
My smirk pales in comparison, so I give him my best smug grin. “I bet I’m not. I can only imagine all the girls tripping over themselves when you were in high school.” When I move closer, his arms envelop me without hesitation, bringing me against the soft T-shirt that covers his hard chest. I close my eyes, absorbing everything I can about this man. We are friends, but we’re becoming much more, and I recognize that now.
“I did all right back in high school.” He strokes the back of my hair. “But Juni, I would have been a one-woman man if I had known you back then.”
Looking up, I rest my chin on him. “Magic happens when two forces join. This feels good because of us, not because I’m so special.” He kisses my forehead, still appearing to bear all the wrong of the night on his shoulders. I add, “It feels good to joke with you, but I want you to know that I’m sorry I lied. I won’t do it again.” And I do need to explain to him why I held back, but I need more time to figure that out myself. Is it because I’ve never felt safe in a relationship before? Safe enough to let someone into my heart? I have a lot of thinking to do.
He caresses my cheek, looking into my eyes. “I believe you, but I’m going to need you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
Holding his hand up, he says, “I’ve never pinky-promised with anyone other than my mom. Not even Nick when we were little. But I will with you if you will with me.”
When his pinky stretches out, I burst out laughing. “Hell yeah, I’ll pinky promise with you.” Our pinkies wrap around each other’s, and he bends to give me a kiss. I kiss him because in the span of an hour, I went from thinking I blew it with this amazing man to being in his arms again.
He kisses me once more. I revel in the sweetness. And then he says, “Thank you for giving me another chance.”
I could point out that I’m the one who lied and kept secrets, but I wrap my arms around his neck and say, “It’s okay. We’ll call it even.” That wins me a chuckle that I’ll happily take all day, every day, and in the middle of the night in the hallway. “Come in, and I’ll give you a tour.”
I shut the door behind him and let him wander on his own into the living room. A smile comes easy, and he says, “I like it.”
Not wanting to let another moment pass, I go and kiss him because I can. Our lips meet, and his hands slide over the sides of my pajamas. But then he leans away from me, appearing to be confused. After he bends down, I ask, “What are you doing?”
Clapping his hands twice, he turns back to me, and asks, “Where’s Rascal?”
Oops! “About that . . .”
25
Juni
I’ve never had a man in my bedroom before, or in my bed for that matter.
But there Drew sits at the end of my bed in quiet contemplation. I imagine this is something he does quite often. He tends to be a serious guy.
Since he doesn’t know I’m awake, I take a moment to study him. The muscles in his back are defined but not big like Thor, more like Captain America in the earlier movies. Those are the muscles that tease me when he takes off his jacket. Shirts are tight but tailored for me to admire his body.
The black band of his boxer briefs isn’t graffitied with a designer name. I like that for some reason. And when he looks toward the windows, I notice how dark the stubble covering his jaw is, tempting me to rub up against him like my own personal scratch post. I’m reminded how raw my thighs feel and now I know why. I’ll take this feeling anytime if it means I’m with him.
Friends . . . I was such a fool for thinking we could remain friends. We’re friends, of course, but there was always something more between us. I smile, not from the sex, though that is worth a standing ovation, but from the fact Drew t
hought I was worth a second chance.
I can’t bear to not see his eyes again. I nudge him in the buns with my big toe.
He turns around, smile growing, and grabs my foot. “Hey there,” he says.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I gently clear the grogginess from my throat.
Chuckling, he glances at the daylight fighting the blinds to sneak in. “It’s almost noon.”
A quick check of the clock verifies the truth. Snuggling the blanket to my chest, I roll to the side, having a hard time not grinning while looking at him. “I guess that sex, cooking, fighting, making up, and making love took it out of me.”
“Yeah. Me too.” He angles toward me and rests his weight on his hand. “I was thinking about how you asked me what I was doing today. Are we still on?”
With all that went on last night, I’d almost forgotten. He didn’t, and that makes me swoon a little. “Definitely.” I sit up and crawl to him, bare naked, and sit on his lap.
I like the way he takes his time tracing over my body, not coy about his gaze lingering longer in some places more than others. He doesn’t make me feel shy or ashamed, but the opposite. I feel brave and sexy around him. I feel empowered.
His body’s reaction also speaks volumes about his thoughts. I wiggle a little and then ask, “Are you in a hurry?”
Like a tiger protecting his pride, he rolls us over with such ease and care. His hand is under my head as he lays me down gently. Hovering over me, he pushes some wild strands of hair away from my face. “Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you?”
“Why is this crazy person yelling at me?”
“No.” He chuckles, but then takes his sweet time peering down my body and then into my eyes again. “I thought you were stunning. Your cheeks were pink from running and your hair was in a loose ball on your head. But the first things I noticed were your eyes and the happiness within them. There was something so incredible about that moment, like I finally knew what I’d been missing.”
His voice had grown softer through the confession, a sadness overcoming him.
I push the hair that’s fallen over his forehead to the side, and ask, “What were you missing?”
“Something to look forward to.” He kisses me quick and then pops off the bed. “I have no idea what you have planned, but let’s get dressed and go.”
When he disappears into the bathroom, I flop my arms out wide, and say, “And here I thought we were going to make love again. Silly me.”
The shower is started, and then he fills the doorway, leaning against it. Waggling his eyebrows, he calls me to him with a bend of his finger. “Who said we weren’t.”
It doesn’t take me more than a second to head into that bathroom. I fly into his arms and am pressed against the back of the door. He kisses me like we have all day to do it. We do, but it’s nice to see the busiest man I know slow down. He asks, “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.” I zip my lips and toss the key behind me.
He unzips my lips and then kisses them. “I like hearing you too much to ever zip those pretty lips. Always make sure you’re heard, babe. The one thing this world needs more of is you.”
Why does he have to be so sweet when I was hoping to get dirty in the shower? Now I just want to hug him. When I press myself to his body, I feel he’s ready to get naughty as well. Dragging him by the hands toward the shower stall, I say, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll make sure the entire world hears me.” I wink. “Or at least the building.”
I spin under the water and spy him watching me. “This isn’t a spectator sport,” I say, soaping my body. “Get in here, Mr. Christiansen, and participate.”
Calling him that name is a great motivator. I could spend a few minutes analyzing why the formal gets Drew moving faster than The Flash, but I think it’s how he’s wired, feeding into his bossy nature.
The tile’s cold, but he’s so damn hot I forget about it and pretty much everything else when he kneels before me and lifts my knee over his shoulder. Looking up at me, he says, “Brace yourself.”
One hand goes to the tiled wall and the other to the small ledge. When his mouth takes charge between my legs, my head drops back, and my eyes close. I find a new appreciation for this CEO—chief erogenous officer. “Yes, Mr. Christiansen. God, yes.” Every time I throw a prefix on there, his tongue works harder.
When his fingers find my entrance, I grip the ledge and the top of his head harder. “I’m so close.” The words are lost in my arousal.
My release is fast and has me melting against the wall. When he sets my foot back on the ground, he holds me by the waist. “I was thinking we could go out for lunch.”
Not ready to reenter the actual world, I slowly drag my eyes open to find him smirking. I have no regrets coming back to him. “I thought you just ate?”
“I did, but I was thinking about you.” Kissing my cheek, he takes my hand and wraps it around his erection. “I thought you might want something more filling. Something to wrap your lips around. Suck. On.”
And there he is . . . Ice Cream Drew is joining the party.
Sexy. Funny. Intelligent. A great dresser. Tall. Dark. Hot as sin. How’d I get so lucky? “I’m starving.”
Screwing my boss has never been more fun. Well, to clarify, I’ve not screwed any other bosses. Only him. But since I’ve crossed that line—four times now—I could do worse than the CEO. And oh my my, how I like doing him.
* * *
“This is the surprise?”
And apparently not a good one by how disappointed Drew looks. I can work with this. I have his expectations so low that the actual surprise will be even better now. Unless I’m misunderstanding the pursed lips and furrowed brow.
Maybe it’s fear creeping into his eyes as he stares at the motto stuck on the window—new tools for age-old problems. “No, this is a pit stop.”
“For?”
“You know what for. You’ve been in New York for five weeks. Let’s just call the three prior to me purgatory—”
Shoving his hands in his jean pockets, he nods, looking satisfied. “It sort of was.”
“Sort of?”
The toe of his shoe bumps the side of my Converse, forming a connection. It’s the little things with this man that mean so much. “It was.” Despite the grumpier moments he has, I love how agreeable he can be sometimes. “And the two since knowing you?”
“We’ll call those the best time of your life.”
He chuckles but then leans over and kisses the top of my head. “It wouldn’t be a lie.”
“That’s good because we hate those.”
“We sure do.”
I drag him by the hand under the ragged purple awning and inside where a lady dressed in a long, purple silk robe is standing in the middle of the store. The red and white flowers on her chest are definitely attention-getters and the fabric on the sexy side. I’m now debating if we should have come here.
When she raises her hands in front of her, rings adorn every finger. She taps the tips of her long, red nails together and aims her eyes at Drew. “Welcome to New Age Innovations. What is your spirit seeking?”
His hand tightens around mine, and when I look up at him beside me, I’m thinking he’s close to running out the door to escape. I’m not sure which verb fits this situation better because I’m a little freaked out as well. I say, “We’re looking for a smudge stick.”
Her hands fall to her sides, and her shoulders sag. Nodding to her left, she replies, “They’re in the back corner.” The creepy voice she was using has been replaced with a Bronx accent. That’s disappointing. Not that she’s from the Bronx, but that it was an act. Anything to sell your goods, I guess.
Standing in front of the curio cabinet, we read what each one does. Drew stops and looks over his shoulder before whispering to me, “Why are we here?”
“Number two.”
“You need the bathroom?”
I balk in laughter. “No . . .
oh great, now I do. Ugh. Thanks for bringing it up.” He shrugs innocently enough so I can forgive him. I say, “Number two from your mom’s list for you to get a life.”
Annoyance stiffens his back, and he stands to his full, glorious height. “I have a life. See? I’m here with you in this weird shop on a Saturday. You know what I’d be doing on a normal Saturday?” He doesn’t even bother keeping his voice down.
So I don’t either. “Going for a run in the morning and then getting a coffee on the way into work?”
“Okay, you don’t need to make me sound so predictable.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I raise an eyebrow.
He mimics my body language, but it only takes a few seconds in a standoff for him to lower his arms again, lean in, and whisper, “Fine, you win. That’s what I’d be doing, but you know, I’m really fucking good at it.”
“You say that all the time as if that’s all you are, though. That’s why this list is important. If it weren’t for that list, you wouldn’t be standing in this strange store in the middle of the Bronx at two on a Saturday afternoon.”
“Hey,” the lady calls from behind the counter where she’s burning skull candles. “It’s not strange.”
I nod. It’s freaking strange, but if she digs it, that’s cool. I open the jar of the stick we need for our mission and take one out.
Drew says, “Yeah, me not standing in this strange place.”
“Really?” silky robe lady says loudly. “I can still hear you.”
Hitting me with a glare, he tells her, “Sorry.” Lowering until his eyes are level with mine, my tall Redwood giant of a man whispers, “I wouldn’t be here. That’s my point.” If emphatic can be managed in a whisper, he masters it. He really is skilled at so many things. His parents must be very proud.
“Oh wait,” I reply, realizing I didn’t think this through. “I think we’re arguing the same point, or I’m lost at this point, voiding all other points altogether.”