Ask Me Something (The Something Series Book 2)

by Aubrey Bondurant

  “Who told you to get these things?”

  He looked instantly uncomfortable.

  “This is very sweet Bri, but you ran out of here like a deer in the headlights at the mere mention of the word period, and now you’re back like you’ve read a how to deal with a woman on her period handbook.”

  “Okay, but don’t get angry because I didn’t mention any names. I only said that I blew it with someone I’d been seeing, and you know he’s my best friend, plus he’s married—”

  Heat flooded my face. “Brian, please tell me you did not call Josh, the owner of the company we work for, not to mention my boss’s boss, to ask him what to do with a woman on her period. Did you?” Josh may not know about our arrangement, but to have this type of intimate question asked of him mortified me just the same.

  He shifted his feet. “No, I didn’t call him.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Technically, I texted him.”

  “Oh. My. God.” I put my hands over my face, beyond embarrassed.

  “Please don’t be mad. I needed advice after screwing up. And I’m not here for sex. If you’d like me to stay, maybe we could hang out, and I can run you a bath. But if you want me to go and be alone, I’m cool with that, too.”

  I had to process for a moment. How the hell could I stay irritated with a man who would text another man to ask for advice, especially on this subject? “I’m not mad. But I am taken aback that you went to all this trouble, Bri.” I was quietly trying to get a handle on my emotions over such a gesture.

  “We were friends first, Sash, and the amazing sex aside, I do enjoy being with you. I’ve never been in a steady relationship, so I was dumbly ignorant of, you know.”

  “My period.” I giggled at his wince.

  “Sorry, it’s something foreign to me, that’s all.”

  I took his hand, grabbed the ice cream and two spoons, and then dragged him into my bedroom. “Come on. I’m catching up on Game of Thrones.”

  He grinned. “I’ll try not to ruin it for you then. How far back are you?”

  “You watch it?”

  “Big fan. Matter of fact, I have you to thank for getting me hooked last year when you mentioned how you liked it. McKenzie is into it now, too.”

  He kicked off his shoes, shed his clothes, and climbed into bed in his boxers. We settled down to watch television like a normal couple.

  ***

  By the time the last recorded episode finished, it was near midnight. We were a pint of Haagen Dazs down, and I’d taken two of the Motrin to help with my muscle aches.

  “You want me to draw a bath for you?” he offered.

  “Sure. Will you join me?”

  He looked surprised but then pleased. “Of course. You, um, go get ready, and I’ll get the bath prepared.”

  I was grateful for my half bath that I could use out in the hall. When I stepped into the master bath, I could hear him humming under his breath. I observed his fluid movements from the doorway while he poured the bubble bath, with a glass of wine and candles already set up.

  “Pretty romantic,” I said, hating that it sounded like an accusation. Why couldn’t I be a normal girl who didn’t overanalyze everything?

  Luckily, he didn’t notice and was focused on turning off the water. “Why don’t you climb in? I’ll be right back.”

  I stepped in and closed my eyes. The water felt good on my muscles, and the fragrant scent of the bubble bath was soothing.

  “Scoot up, honey. I’ll get behind you,” he suggested.

  His strong legs rested on either side of mine with my back tucked into his chest. Breathing deeply, I enjoyed the feel of him around me. Although we hadn’t brought it up all evening, I couldn’t help but do so now. “The last time we spoke on the phone, you said it would be a good idea not to see me for another two weeks.”

  He hugged me tight from the back. “Clearly I didn’t mean it when I couldn’t last twenty-four hours.”

  “I started to think maybe you…” I couldn’t quite finish the thought without getting emotional.

  “Maybe I—what?”

  I took a deep breath. Something about being in the tub, facing away from him, made me braver. “Maybe I wouldn’t hear from you at all. I’m not the sort of girl who’s ever going to let you be dominant in all things, and I think that’s what you’ve had before. And perhaps you were rethinking the entire thing.”

  “That’s the last thing I—Shit—I was afraid if I came over last night, you’d tell me it might not be working for you because of my earlier behavior. I thought a break might remind you that I’m not normally like that. The truth is…” He hesitated. “Although the thought of being in control in the bedroom turns me on, I feel the same when you challenge me. And there’s no doubt that you should’ve challenged me in the office, but I’ve never dealt with the two combined.”

  “And the thing about Logan?”

  “I’m not jealous in the way you’re thinking. I don’t know why I brought it up except for the fact that I’m envious he gets to spend every day talking with you, working late nights, and seeing you all the time. That used to be us in Charlotte.”

  I missed that, too. “It was, but we weren’t doing this, so maybe the move was a good thing. By the way, were you serious about all men rating women in their heads?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m afraid so. But it’s probably guy code, so don’t go spreading it around.”

  “It’s unnerving to have a glimpse into the male psyche and the fact that men are such pigs.”

  “If you could look inside our minds, maybe we are, but we clean up nice for presentation purposes.”

  “Hmm. Fair enough. By the way, I asked Logan. He assured me he doesn’t want to sleep with me.”

  “WHAT?”

  I burst out laughing. “I couldn’t resist. Like I’d ever ask him that question.”

  “Your laughter is worth the heart attack you almost gave me.”

  I giggled again and enjoyed the feel of his hands washing my arms and back.

  “Can I ask you something?” His voice was low and intimate.

  “Mm.” I couldn’t manage a yes with his hands on my breasts.

  “Do you regret starting this?”

  I turned to face him and put my hand on his jaw. “No, do you?”

  It was an emotional, intimate moment. When he opened his eyes, looking at me with unfiltered passion, I knew that he didn’t have any doubts.

  “Not even for a second. Turn back around and relax into me. I want to wash your beautiful body.”

  I lay back, gasping when his soapy fingers reached down and found my clit. “Bri—”

  “Shh, I’ll only touch you here. Open your legs.”

  I let my knees fall open to the sides of the tub.

  “That’s it.”

  Giving myself over to the sensation, my toes curled with each stroke of his fingers.

  His lips trailed kisses down my neck, and then his breath was near my ear. “Come for me, sweetness.”

  My muscles tensed and the roar of blood rushed in my ears. Suddenly, I climaxed with a breathless whimper already wanting more.

  “I wish I could have you inside of me,” I panted, feeling him hard behind me.

  “I don’t mind, Sasha. I mean only if you want to.”

  “I do, but—”

  I didn’t have a chance to finish voicing the insecurity before his hand roughly pushed between my legs and pulled the string out in one fluid motion. I was shocked by how aroused I became with that motion. Then he, no-nonsense, simply leaned over, grabbed the trash can, and deposited it in there. Before I could process feeling self-conscious, he lifted me up, and aligned his hardened length to my slick entrance.

  “I can’t believe that turned me on so much,” I muttered. I felt his chuckle at my ear and gasped in pleasure when he filled me completely.

  His hands grasped my hips, setting the rhythm. “Me too, gorgeous.” He groaned with pleasure, increasi
ng the tempo. “Your breasts are heavier, and you’re tighter around me. You’re more sensitive, aren’t you?”

  His hands were everywhere at once, it seemed, and my body was on overload. “Oh, God, yes,” I moaned.

  He reached around to my swollen nub, circling it expertly.

  My body clenched, and I threw my head back onto his shoulder. His growl of ecstasy fueled me. Neither of us cared about the water sloshing all over the floor. His teeth nipped at my neck, and we went over the edge together.

  After a few minutes, our breathing steadied, and he sighed. “Are you all right?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I was unable to form any coherent words at this point.

  “I’m sorry. This was not what I intended when I came back tonight. I was only going to rub your back in the tub and maybe cop a feel, but, no, I’m like a damned animal when it comes to you.”

  “I’m the one who said I wanted you inside of me. I guess I didn’t think you’d actually do it though.” I was too embarrassed to vocalize it in detail.

  “It’s probably good we’re in the tub,” he said wryly.

  I winced at the tenderness when I got up and stepped out of the tub. I made sure to go straight into the shower.

  He drained the water and then joined me. “Are you positive you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  I turned, smiling. “No you didn’t hurt me. Um, it wasn’t too bad for you, was it?” My cheeks burned. What was I asking, exactly?

  He grabbed my chin and held my face. “No, but I feel terrible because I came back here to prove that it wasn’t only about the sex.”

  I soaped up and ran my hands over his chest. “I know it’s not.” We locked eyes and a myriad of emotions passed between us. “Um, I need a few minutes to wash.”

  He kissed me deeply. “Let me rinse, and I’ll give you some privacy, okay?”

  I nodded, grateful that he understood.

  After my shower, I dressed for bed and climbed in, enjoying the feel of his arms coming around me. Then his hands were massaging my lower back, and it felt divine.

  “Bri—”

  “Mmm.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be, Sash.”

  I smiled in the dark.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  It was like every other pitch day. I arrived early at the client site, excused myself to go to the restroom, and there pulled my hair back quickly while upchucking breakfast into the toilet in front of me. Thankfully, I was alone in the women’s bathroom. But even if I hadn’t been, I’d long ago perfected the art of keeping quiet. Putting a few seat covers over the top of the water helped muffle the sound and minimized the splashing. The last thing I needed was to have anything land on my Jimmy Choo shoes or conservative, “consultant approved,” black Chanel suit. I’d learned over the years to eat something starchy and drink a lot of water. It hurt my throat less that way and came up a lot easier. As an added bonus, I wouldn’t have the calories later.

  Great, now I was thinking like a bulimic teenage girl. If only it was that easily controlled, I thought and then winced. Oh, sure, judge someone else’s disorder while I battled my own on a daily basis. Nice one, Sasha.

  I steadied my breathing and visualized the pitch deck I was about to give the clients. I didn’t think of Vanessa being insecure around women. I didn’t think about the dress code or Brian. Instead, I cleared my mind and proceeded into the zone like I always did.

  But first always came this. After flushing, I came out of the stall, pulled the toothbrush from my purse for a quick brush, touched up my makeup, and put in my earbuds. My song choice for today was a personal favorite: Titanium by David Guetta. I let the words wash over me for the duration of the three minute song and took a final look at myself. I was the vice president for Gamble Advertising out of the New York office for a reason. I was successful, confident, and I would kill this presentation. I visualized it, rolled my shoulders, and put on my game face.

  Coming out of the ladies’ room, I smoothed down my long skirt and then walked the short distance back to the reception area. There I smiled at Charlie and Logan, who were waiting, and reassured them that everyone would do great.

  Brian joined us in the lobby a couple minutes later. I’d been relieved that he hadn’t come in last night as I was neurotic when it came to pitch day and didn’t want the distraction. I’d always heard about NFL players having quirky traditions or throwing up before the big day. Well, this was my playoffs, and I was the quarterback. The pitch was my sweet spot, and we’d been preparing for weeks. I was damn good at it, and now that I’d put my anxiety into a box, the adrenaline was kicking in. I was ready.

  We all filed into the conference room. It was show time. Introductions were made, and I officially met Vanessa. She was upper-thirties, petite in stature, with dark brown hair pulled back in a severe bun. She wore a low-cut blouse paired with a designer jacket, skirt, and leopard print pumps. Yeah, leopard. Clearly no one had ever done a survey dictating that she wear something conservative.

  The board in attendance was made up of five gentlemen, all white-haired and dressed in black or navy suits. The man in charge was named Michael Dobson. He’d served as CEO of Tryon Pharmaceuticals for the last ten years and only recently retired to become the chairman of the board. I knew about each of these men, their biographies, their work history, and anything else I could dig up.

  My advertising pitch deck followed a well-known formula of five stages or steps. The first step was where Brian did most of the talking. Since he was the senior person, he took care of the introductions and talked about the credentials of Gamble Advertising as a whole. His voice was melodic, and he was straight and to the point. The second step was to throw the ball over to me for our focus on strategy. This was where we sold the idea that this was a niche of the market in which we’d proven ourselves. It was a stretch, however, considering we’d only worked with one pharmaceutical company, and it was quite a bit smaller than Tryon. It wasn’t normal practice to field questions during this part of the presentation, however it happened often enough. I’d prepared, considering Vanessa was the type of woman who’d want to make her presence known early on.

  “You only have the one other pharmaceutical company?” she inquired, tapping her pen.

  I smiled. “Yes, only one, however we have two home health care accounts. And, instead of having to split creativity amongst several identical pharmaceutical companies, all of the ingenuity would be focused on yours.”

  She looked like she was about to speak again but was interrupted by the chairman, Mr. Dobson. “Very good answer, Ms. Brooks. Please continue.”

  Good to know she didn’t have control over the board. But considering these gentlemen wouldn’t be present for most client meetings and discussions, it wasn’t going to do much good later. Moving on to stage three, we provided the meat of the presentation, the creative pitch. Logan presented the magazine ad concepts, and Charlie moved into the television campaign proposal. Then it was back to me to discuss the miscellaneous ad space, which included stadiums and airports. We expected questions and comments during this section. I noticed Vanessa only addressed her questions to the men on the team.

  Once she was finished, Mr. Dobson, the chairman, took his turn while thumbing through the presentation packet in front of him. “Tell me, Ms. Brooks, why did you target the Dallas Cowboys’ stadium specifically for an ad?”

  My smile came easily. “Mr. Dobson, the Dallas Cowboys are the most televised team in America, giving you the best camera time for your ad. It’s also a newer stadium and the largest, which means that the film crew is panning around to show the home-viewing audience a glimpse of it more often than in an older stadium. And, last but not least, considering you have season tickets, where better to see evidence of your company’s ad dollars than where you can do business with potential investors?”

  His wide grin let me know my homework had not been in vain. “Very nice, M
s. Brooks. Now tell me how you think the Cowboys will do this year?”

  I paused, pretending to think about it. “I believe losing Demarco Murray will be a large hole, and the jury is out on whether or not McFadden and Randle can replace that gap. Between the two of them, my money is on McFadden to be the starter, but the real question is if they can keep their offensive line healthy. Without that, you’ll have an injured quarterback with a domino effect. Of course, defense is where it’s going to make a difference if they can have the same sort of year as the last one with takeovers. If you ask me, Tyron Crawford is underrated and this could be his breakout year.” And thank you, Daddy, not only for my love of the game, but also for teaching me the best strategy for dealing with most men: football. He’d always said that you could fundamentally be at odds with a man politically or religiously, but if you could talk football, all the other stuff wouldn’t matter.

  “It takes a lot to surprise me, Ms. Brooks. We may need to fly you out for a game.” Smiling, he looked toward his fellow board members, of which I knew two of the three also held Dallas Cowboys season tickets.

  “That would be a dream, Mr. Dobson,” I replied graciously.

  Turning back to my team, I noticed that Logan’s gaze was akin to hero worship. Charlie looked impressed, and Brian’s eyes showed unfiltered amusement.

  Vanessa, however, had a sour expression on her face.

  The fourth stage was my least favorite: the budget. Clients didn’t typically like to spend money, but since the six-million-dollar figure on the table had been offered up before we’d prepared the pitch, the board didn’t bat a lash at our estimates. Finally, after no further questions, we proceeded to the summary or the final step of the presentation. Charlie and Logan hit their cues flawlessly, and we killed it.

  The only personal hitch to the entire thing had been watching Vanessa eye fuck Brian. She was an attractive woman who was not hurting for confidence, hanging on his every word and lingering with innocent touches as we made our goodbyes.

  We would find out in the next couple of weeks if we’d made the cut to the next round. There was always the chance we wouldn’t win the business, but I was confident that we’d left it all on the field. And the football metaphors stayed on the brain.