An Affair Across Times Square

by Rachell Nicole

  “Pull down one shoulder of that robe.”

  She slipped her shoulder out, unable to speak. She pushed the speakerphone button and set the handset back in the cradle.

  “Spread your legs.”

  She did. Still, no words would come to her. Having him take total physical control while not even in the same room made her shiver. But she still held the emotional strings. She didn’t love him, wasn’t desperate for his love in return. For the first time in what seemed like forever, she felt free to do as she wanted and safe, knowing she hadn’t given him the tools to hurt her.

  “Now tell me exactly what it is you want me to do to you while you touch yourself, just the way you like it,” he commanded.

  “I… Oh, I’m so close already.” She moaned, moving her legs wider apart. Just that little movement sent a shock wave through her body. Her sheath clenched once. “God, you made me so, ah—” She couldn’t get the words out as she slid one hot finger up the left side of her wet folds. “Mmmm. So wet.” She wanted to tip her head back, give herself over to the pleasure. But she needed to look at him. It amplified the sensations, making her desperate for release.

  “Ah, oh, God. This is how I want it. Hard. And fast. Right here on the floor. The rug grazing the edge of my entrance as you use your fingers to push hard on my clit.” She screamed and bit her lip when her finger came into contact with those sensitive nerve endings. “I want you sitting on the floor behind me, your cock pressed against my back, your legs wrapped around and pinning mine to the floor. I want to be open like this for you.” She quivered. She wouldn’t make it much longer. Still she watched the way his grip got tighter and tighter on the phone as she described the scene.

  “I want you sucking hard on my neck, using your right hand to come around, like this, and dip into my robe. I want you to find my nipple, to pinch it, pull it into a hard peak as you thrust against me with your cock, as you circle my clit with your fingers. You’d be relentless, never stopping or giving up until I was so far gone I begged you for mercy. Begged to come.”

  Her last word came out a scream as it all became too much. She could almost feel him there, pinning her legs to the floor, biting her neck, squeezing her nipple, and playing with her clit. “I want to reach behind me and grab your neck, hold you close as you…” She couldn’t speak as the orgasm ripped through her. She shook on the floor, spasming and gasping, crying out until every last bit of pleasure was wrung out of her.

  She looked deep into his eyes and yanked the curtain shut as the door behind him started to open.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tyler froze as he stared at the closed curtain.

  “Shhh,” she hissed in his ear.

  “What?”

  “There’s a man standing behind you in your office.”

  He cleared his throat, shifted in his seat. Shit.

  “Right, of course…honey.” Oh, he hoped she didn’t read too far into this. “That sounds like a great plan. The best thing for you to do. Why don’t you give me a call back tomorrow?” He forced his fingers to loosen their grip on the phone.

  “Uh, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Her voice edged close to panic. Thank God she’d seen his colleague before he spoke again. Before he said something he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of.

  “Well, you know I think that would be perfect. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then. Thanks,” he said. His voice sounded casual. Professional lawyer voice coming to the rescue. But he felt so awkward thanking her, even if he meant it. “Love you too. Good-bye.”

  She said nothing and then cut the line. Maybe saying “love” bordered on ridiculous. But he had to pretend he was talking to someone non-work-related on the other end of the phone. Had they seen her? The thought made him panic. He hadn’t even registered the click of his door opening. He’d been so far gone to the cries of her release, to picturing the scene she described. He pushed those thoughts aside and spun in his chair to find Williams standing in the doorway. What the hell is he doing here on Saturday?

  “Lachlan, thought I’d find you here. Johnson and I want to go over some of the stuff you’ve been working on. We’re in the conference room.” Williams had kind of a strange look on his face, though his voice sounded normal. Did he know more than he let on?

  “Great, I just packed up and was heading out when the phone rang. I’ll take out what we need and meet you in there.” He needed a few minutes to compose himself. Shit. That had been close. Williams wouldn’t sugarcoat something. If he’d spotted Ms. Marietta, he would have said so.

  “Sounds good. Who was on the phone?”

  “My sister,” he replied, not missing a beat. But he caught Williams’s gaze skitter to the side, looking straight out the window. Could he have seen her? At worst, Tyler hoped he’d seen some half-naked woman across the street and been distracted, but had no clue of Tyler’s involvement.

  “Ah, very nice. See you in a minute.” Williams turned without another word and closed the door behind him.

  He had the urge to call Ms. Marietta and make sure she was okay. Tell her they needed to meet in person next time, if there ever was a next time. But he didn’t have her number. She’d called him, and he would bet money that he wouldn’t be able to get the number if he checked the caller ID. He checked anyway—unknown number. He grabbed his files—the files she’d made him put away while naked—and stood. He shifted his pants, pulling his sweater down farther to hide his semihardness.

  Trying to get his head back on track, he walked to the conference room. On autopilot he shared the new details he’d gleaned through reviewing the notes, and the fact that he would have to turn over their witness list Monday. Something about the conversation he had with that woman had been bothering him since he got off the phone. She’d been so damned uppity. Like by not instantly complying with her demands, he’d somehow offended her on a personal level. Something else about the conversation bothered him, but when Williams clapped him on the back, he lost the thought.

  “Good work on this case, Lachlan. We need you to go see Paulson again. Talk about putting him on the stand. I know he’s gung ho about it, but you also know how catastrophic it would be.”

  Tyler already decided putting Paulson on the stand would be an asset, but he just nodded. The jury needed to see the side of the man that Tyler did. Williams would be pissed until he realized it would help them win the case. Looking at Johnson’s face and then into Williams’s seedy eyes told him he might not make it until then with even a shred of his soul intact.

  He stood when the other men stood, still on autopilot. He’d been so close to getting caught. He couldn’t let that happen. It would tank his job here, and it would fuck with the rest of his plan. Unacceptable. He felt galvanized to redouble his efforts to get Ms. Marietta to meet him in person. This semidistant relationship or whatever they had would screw his life up if it continued through the window of his office.

  “So, Lachlan,” Williams said as they walked out of the conference room. “How do you like the view from your office?”

  Tyler forced himself not to react. He turned slightly toward the other man, raising an eyebrow. “Of the square? It’s nice, I guess. I’m pretty used to it now. It’s been about six months.”

  Williams nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking of getting a transfer to that side of the building. See how the view’s changed in the past few years.”

  He knew. That bastard had seen her. Tyler could tell by his voice.

  “Eh, Times Square is Times Square. You look at it enough, you don’t even see it anymore.”

  Williams tilted his head to the side at that one, but he refrained from making any further comments. Tyler was free from his scrutiny a moment later and leaving the building. Staying would be too conspicuous. He refused to look across the street when he left, or up to the window. Somehow he felt like Williams still watched him. But he couldn’t go home; he was too wound up.

  The park. He headed up the thirty blocks at a slo
w pace, stopping to take off his sweater and place it in the briefcase. Much too hot to be wearing it outside. He needed time to clear his head.

  He walked up to 79th and into the park, not bothering to wind his way through to his favorite spot, but taking the more direct route. Hurry up and get there just to take it slow—kind of his life’s motto. He shoved that heavy thought aside. He didn’t want to think; he just wanted to let his brain work through things. Maybe he could come out seeing the bigger picture in the end.

  He wasn’t sure. Ms. Marietta had scrambled everything in his brain. And he was letting her distract him. He ground his teeth together. He walked through to Shakespeare’s Garden, determined to sit alone in the shade for a few hours and just be. But after a few minutes on one of the thick wooden benches, he caught a glimpse of long black hair pulled into a ponytail and the arch of a shoulder he wouldn’t forget. It was her. Ms. Marietta. Running right by his garden in the middle of Central Park.

  He sprang to his feet, intent on running after her. At least he wore jeans instead of work pants. But he also had on stiff and squeaky shoes, not sneakers. They sounded ridiculous. Which matched the way he looked, chasing after some woman in Central Park. She ran up the steps near the castle. When he caught sight of her tight ass, he knew for sure it was her. He’d recognize that ass from across the street. The thought made him smile. He wanted to call out to her. Make her stop and face him.

  But he didn’t know her real name, and calling out the name he’d come up with for her would garner him a few odd looks. Not that one didn’t get used to those in a city like this. But if he brought her attention to him, she might run even faster in the opposite direction. He couldn’t let that happen. She slowed her pace, and he stalked a bead of sweat rolling down the curve of her back, eager to lick it off. He quickened his steps, wanting to overtake the distance between them before she jogged out of sight again. Fate had delivered her right into his hands, and he wouldn’t squander this opportunity. It might be the only time he got to see her in person if she stayed so elusive.

  “Eddie,” she yelled and launched herself into the arms of another man, who caught her and pulled her close. His shoulders stiffened. The tall Latino man put her on her feet, but not before taking a generous palmful of her ass. The answering tightness in his chest made Tyler wince. How dare that guy put his hands all over her, the pompous prick. Tyler knew he shouldn’t be jealous, that they weren’t together. But he couldn’t stop the burning in his gut. He couldn’t bear to stand there and watch another man paw at Ms. Marietta.

  He had to make sure she saw him, but running over there and punching the other guy in the face would be foolish, much as he really wanted to do just that. This Eddie character stood in profile to Tyler, his hands still on Ms. Marietta. She’d said she wasn’t married. She’d never said she was single. Shame on him for assuming those were mutually exclusive things. Maybe this other man had every right to grab her ass like that. She hadn’t seemed to mind in the slightest.

  “Do you really have to grab my ass every time I see you?” she asked.

  That’s right. You tell him.

  “C’mon, girlfriend, you love it.”

  Tyler backed up a few steps, sitting on a bench and trying to look inconspicuous. The way Eddie said girlfriend gave him pause. Most guys didn’t go around calling their girls that. Maybe they were just friends. And maybe she would introduce them when she saw him.

  He held his briefcase tighter as he sauntered by them, being sure to strut right past her line of sight. He heard a sharp intake of breath as he passed, but that was her only reaction. She didn’t stop him. Didn’t try to introduce him to her maybe boyfriend.

  Damn.

  Instead, he kept walking. He wove his way through the park in a daze, irritated by how upset that one image of her in another man’s arms had made him, despite his gut instinct they were only friends. But he couldn’t stop the way he felt. Perfect, just perfect. The only thing better to top off his day would be that call from his mother he was dreading. Yup. That would be just fucking fantastic right about now.

  “THAT’S HIM,” LAYLA hissed to Eduardo. She pulled him into a hug so he couldn’t turn around and gawk.

  She glanced left over his shoulder, waiting for Mr. Times Square to turn around, to say something. Acknowledge her presence. He’d walked up from behind her, but the minute that dark head and high cheekbones had come into her peripheral vision, she’d known it was him. How had they happened upon each other in such a big park? And why the fuck hadn’t he recognized her? If she’d been with anyone else, she would have been elated that he had walked by without revealing he knew her. But Eddie knew the whole story. Well, except for what happened this morning, since she’d just called his ass out here to tell him. As soon as Mr. TS had hung up, she’d thrown on her running clothes and come to the park. She’d been here almost an hour already.

  But no, Mr. TS had walked right by as if she didn’t exist. She supposed it was just as well, though, since she had no idea what to say to him now. He’d called her honey. And then said “I love you.” She knew he’d only said that to cover for them. She knew it, but she couldn’t shake the insane feeling she’d had in the pit of her stomach as soon as the words had left his lips.

  She wasn’t sure she could see him again. That had been a close call when that movie star look-alike blond had walked into the room. She hoped it wasn’t his boss, at the very least. Above all, she prayed he hadn’t seen so much as a wisp of her hair before she’d closed the curtains. But she was afraid her reflexes had been slowed by the postorgasm glow. She’d barely had time to take a breath before she registered the movement in the room behind him.

  So she should be glad that he’d just walked on by. And she would squelch any thought to the contrary.

  “Can you maybe give me enough space to breathe?” Eddie’s words snapped her out of the death grip. She let go of him and stepped back. A hot breeze trailed over her sweaty skin. Central Park acted as her one other saving grace here apart from the hotel, and now Mr. TS had invaded her personal reverie.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled to him.

  “So, you going to go chasing him down?”

  She shook her head.

  “Girl, if you could see your face right now. Your eyes are huge.”

  She punched him in the left pec. “Shut it.” She didn’t want to hear it. She certainly didn’t want to think about it. She felt scattered. Unsettled. Both of which were pretty common for her. But now she felt overwhelmed by both. Like her emotions had suddenly been turned up and were swamping her.

  He took her hand in his and squeezed it; then he pulled her along in the opposite direction from Mr. TS. Eddie knew her so well sometimes it scared her. He knew she wouldn’t even be able to walk down the same path as Mr. Times Square if she was trying to avoid him. Stupid, yes, and childish, but it was how she felt, and Marge had always tried to get her to believe she was entitled to her feelings, even the silly ones. Eddie had tried to do the same.

  “Ugh. You shouldn’t enable me, you know?”

  “Yeah, I do. But it’s kind of what friends do, chica. So you said you had some news. Dish.” His warm hand never left hers. Even though New York heat enveloped them, even though she was gross and sweaty and shouldn’t be holding hands with anyone, Eddie didn’t mind. He looked so casual in his shorts, sandals, and polo. So unlike his polished self when he wore his all-black hotel getup.

  “Uh…I think we maybe got caught this morning.”

  His hand tightened around hers for a second. Then he laughed. He laughed as if she had told him the funniest joke in the world. The bastard. She didn’t think anything about the situation deserved a laugh. Okay, maybe if it were a scene from a movie or someone else’s life, it would be hysterical. But it wasn’t. It was hers. Her fucked-up, never-ending shitstorm of a life. And he was laughing at it.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled as he caught sight of her glare. “You have to admit, the idea’s pretty funny. Like you were c
aught in the middle of it by his parents or something. Like you were sixteen and necking on the couch.”

  “I know, but jeez. That’s where he works. What if I got him into trouble?” She hated the plea in her voice. The whine.

  “You actually give a damn. Oh, Lay, are you starting to care about this guy?”

  Yes. “No.” She couldn’t be. Impossible. She’d known him for a few days. If known could really describe their situation. Oh, what a steaming pile she’d turned this into. “I mean, I can’t. I don’t know him or anything about him. I made that one of our rules.”

  “You have rules?” He turned an amused smile toward her as they walked.

  She broke and launched into the full details of that morning’s events.

  “So…see. I tried the whole throw-caution-to-the-wind-and-see-what-happens thing. And just like always, it blew up in my face. What if he got sacked?”

  “You said he was wearing all his clothes, talking on the phone, sitting behind his desk. How could they have any idea you were on the phone with him? I mean, it’s not like you were under his desk blowing him, right? He wasn’t using the company credit card to call a phone sex line, right?”

  “No, but…” When he put it like that, it didn’t seem so bad. “But I’m sure it left him with a hell of a lot of explaining to do.”

  He shook his head. “Honey, all he would need to say was that he was on the phone and he looked up to see some crazy half-naked bitch across the street. And they’ll never be able to prove otherwise.”

  “Ugh, you sound like a lawyer.”

  “Jeez, don’t sugarcoat it, hon. Tell me how you really feel.”

  Her voice had been dripping with venom, but she couldn’t help it. She refused to put Esq. after her name, signifying her as one of them, though she did identify as one when it benefited her. She wouldn’t work a case in a courtroom. She couldn’t even force herself to step into one. It made her feel too fake. Too exposed. Like the judge, the jury, and other lawyers all knew what a wild-child screwup she was. Logic had very little shelf space in her brain. She realized this fact, had dealt with it long ago, accepted it, and moved on. And still she couldn’t bring herself to try a case. Probably never would.