by Vi Keeland
“You have…” I pointed to my mouth where the salt was on hers. “Salt.”
She reached up and swiped her lip, but the wrong side.
I chuckled and reached across the table. “I got it.”
Without giving it a second thought, I brought the salt from her lips to mine and sucked it off my thumb. Maybe I was deluding myself, big ego and all, but I swear her lips parted, and if I’d leaned in, I would have heard a little gasp.
Fuck. I bet she’s really responsive in bed.
I cleared my throat. “What about you? Best present you ever received?”
“My parents gave me a gift certificate for Lasik surgery when I turned eighteen.”
“Lasik? But you wear glasses.”
“Oh, I didn’t keep the gift. I went down to the doctor’s office and explained that my parents had made a mistake, and I didn’t want the surgery.”
“So you didn’t want the surgery, but it was the best present you ever received?”
She sipped her margarita again. Unfortunately, no salt left behind this time. I thought about pretending there was, but she started to speak again too quickly.
“Oh, no, I wanted to get the surgery. In second grade, Missy Robinson called me Grandma because I needed different glasses to see the board and to read. The name stuck throughout elementary school. I hated my glasses. For a long time, I wouldn’t wear them, even though I had to squint and constantly got headaches.”
“What am I missing? Your parents got you something you really wanted, so you returned it?”
“My parents couldn’t afford the surgery. It was six thousand dollars, and my dad was driving around in a twenty-year-old car. But it was the nicest present I could ever have asked for.”
Add sweet to a great rack, highly fuckable ass, and smart mouth. That smart mouth is also quite fuckable, I might add.
“What about now? If you could have anything you wanted for your birthday today, what would it be?”
Her finger tapped at her lip while she thought. “A bath.”
“A bath? Like one of those spa treatment mud things or something?”
“Nope. Just a good soak in a nice tub. My apartment only has a shower, and I really miss taking a bath. I used to take one every Saturday morning—put in my headphones and soak until I was shriveled. It’s my happy place.”
I took a long draw from my beer, watching her again. “You’re easy to please.”
She shrugged. “How about you? If today was your birthday and you could pick one present, what would it be?”
I swallowed my immediate thought. Beck. Not wanting to bring down Emerie’s mood on her birthday, I gave her my second pick for a present. “A blowjob would be nice.”
Emerie was mid-sip and sprayed her margarita all over me when she laughed.
I wiped my face with a napkin. “Well, now I’ve had the salt and the margarita.”
She giggled. “I’m sorry.”
It was after two in the morning by the time we stumbled to Emerie’s apartment. I’d insisted on walking her home. I had a buzz going, but I thought she might be closer to drunk.
“Shhh….” She held a finger up to her mouth to tell me to keep it down, yet she was the one being loud. Pointing to the apartment next door as she fished in her purse for keys, she added, “That’s Baldwinny’s apartment.”
Yep. She was drunk.
I took the keys from her hand. “Might do him some good to hear you with another man.”
Emerie stepped aside so I could unlock the door for her. Letting out a big sigh, she leaned her head on my arm while I screwed with the lock. The damn thing seemed to be stuck.
“He wouldn’t be jealous,” she slurred. “He doesn’t want me.”
I jiggled the keys in the lock a few more times and the bolt clanked open. “Well, then he’s an idiot.”
I pushed the door open and held out the keys to her. On the handoff, she bobbled them and giggled some more when we banged heads reaching down to pick them up from the floor. Over the sound of her laughter, I heard the door next to her apartment open. Emerie didn’t seem to.
When Baldwin stepped into the hall and looked at us, I suddenly felt very territorial. With her back to him, Emerie was still unaware that we had an audience. She smiled up at me with those big blue eyes, and something came over me. I leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the lips—a toe in the water to take the temperature.
That little kiss was all testosterone, me being a dick to the asshole next door. Pissing on the fire hydrant, so to speak. But when I pulled my head back and saw her eyes dilated and lips parting for more, my next move had nothing to do with who was watching.
It was sheer desire. I lost it. My mouth crashed down on hers again, and her lips parted for me. My tongue slid in, and I took my first long stroke inside. It was salty and peppered with tequila, but it was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. And suddenly, I was starving.
I pulled her flush against me and wrapped my arms around her tight. There was no guy who she was in love with watching—it was just me and Emerie. Everything else disappeared as I deepened the kiss, and she eagerly pushed her tits up against my chest. The sound she made when my hand went to her phenomenal ass encouraged me to keep going. I wanted nothing more than to push her up against her door and grind my swelling cock against her. And I might have given in and done it, had the asshole next door not put a damper on the moment.
Baldwin cleared his throat. Hearing the sound, Emerie pulled away and turned to find that the man she was in love with had just watched this entire thing. She looked startled, and I hated that there was already a look of regret in her eyes. I didn’t have the heart to make her feel any more shaken than she already was.
Cupping her cheeks, I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Maybe that will wake him up.” Then I kissed her cheek. “See you at the office, birthday girl.”
Drew, New Year’s Eve, Four years ago
“Who the fuck are these people?” Roman was sitting on the balcony of my apartment in the dark, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, when I snuck out to escape for a few minutes.
“Maybe you’d know if you were inside instead of out here.” I took the seat beside him and stared out into the sea of lights that was New York City. “It’s fucking freezing.”
“Did you see the tits on that blonde with the blue sweater?”
“That’s Sage. One of Alexa’s new friends.”
“She ain’t the brightest bulb. I was joking around and told her I could tell her age by feeling her up.”
“Don’t tell me she let you grope her?”
The end of Roman’s cigarette illuminated bright red as he took a long drag. “Yep. After I copped a good feel, she asked me when she was born.” He blew out a string of smoke rings. “I told her yesterday and came to sit out here.”
I chuckled. Fucking Roman. He either got smacked or lucky, and sometimes I wondered which one he actually liked better. “Yeah. Alexa has a knack for picking choice friends.”
“Looks like she’s settled into New York okay, at least.”
From the outside, at least tonight, it would appear that way. This was certainly better than her going out alone last year, followed by a huge fight to kick off the new year when I’d questioned her about the guy who’d driven her home. This year, our home was filled with all of the friends she’d made over the last four months since we moved to New York from Atlanta. But the truth was, she still bitched daily about leaving her friends behind.
“She’s made some friends. Mostly from the acting class she’s taking and the gym. I was hoping she’d find friends who have more in common with her—maybe some of the ladies from Mommy and Me, but she says they’re all sweater-wearing, stuffy bitches.”
“If those sweaters are anything like the blonde’s, I might be borrowing your kid to take a Mommy and Me class.”
We were both quiet for a few minutes, enjoying the peace of a clear night. Roman’s voice was serious when he spoke again. “H
ow’s AJ doing?”
AJ was my father’s nickname, short for Andrew Jagger. Neither of us used our given name—I was always Drew, and he was always AJ. “Not good. It’s spread to a lung now. Looks like they’re going to have to remove a piece.”
“Fuck. I’m sorry, friend. AJ’s too damn young for this shit.”
Four months ago my father had gone to the doctor for an annual physical and his blood work revealed his liver enzymes were off. Two days later he was diagnosed with liver cancer. Even though the statistics weren’t on his side—a fifteen percent five-year survival rate from diagnosis—he was optimistic. He’d endured months of high-dose chemo that made him sick as a dog, only to be told the day after he finished the last round that the cancer had metastasized to his lung.
“Yeah. I’m glad I could be here for him. He’s got a shitload of friends and business associates, but without a wife taking care of him, I needed to be back in New York.”
“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back.”
“I think that was Alexa’s plan.”
I’d always intended to come back to New York to work with my father in his practice. After I passed the bar, Alexa had begged me to stay in Atlanta one more year. It meant having to take a second bar exam, but I was trying to make her happy while she was adjusting to motherhood. So we agreed to stay in Atlanta for one year. One turned into two, and until my dad got sick, I think it was Alexa’s plan to keep asking for one more year.
“She’s adjusting. She likes the shopping and has decided to take some acting classes. Apparently that’s something she’s always wanted to do, but never mentioned until she signed up for the first class.” I shrugged. “Whatever, it keeps her happy.”
Roman looked at me. “What about you? She keep you happy?”
“She’s a good mother.”
“So is my mother. But that doesn’t mean I want to fuck her and spend the rest of my life hanging out with her.”
“You have a unique way of looking at shit.”
“I’m banging a yoga instructor; she’s into all that introspective crap.”
“I’m sure that’s why you’re with her. Not because she can lift her leg over her own shoulder.”
“The only time she shuts the hell up and stops trying to enlighten me with useless wisdom is when I have her legs over her shoulders. My dick acts like a stopper in a bathtub full of wisdom quotes.”
I chuckled and stood, smacking my friend on the back. “Come on, let’s go back to the party. I’m freezing my balls off, and I want to check on Beck. It’s getting pretty loud in there.”
Navigating through the growing party, I made my way to my little boy’s room. So damn sweet—he even smiled in his sleep. Okay, so maybe it was a twitch, but his mouth relaxed and then jumped to a grin every few seconds. He must have been dreaming about his racecars and grapes, his two favorite things the last few months. I pulled the cover up to his chin and ran my fingers over his soft cheeks. God, I’d never dreamed I could love anyone in the world so much. My heart clenched in my chest momentarily as I wondered if my own father had looked at me the same way twenty-some-odd years ago. I needed my dad to get better. I wanted him to get to know my son and guide me to be the kind of father he was to me.
I wasn’t a religious guy—the last time I’d been in church was my shotgun wedding to Alexa. And before that, probably a funeral. But a small cross hung over my son’s crib. I looked at it every day, but never really saw it as more than a decoration.
It couldn’t hurt to try.
Standing beside Beck’s crib, I said a small prayer for God to watch over my father and my son.
We’d been back in New York for four months, and that cross had hung on the wall next to his crib the entire time. But when I opened the door to go back to the party, the thing fell to the ground.
I hoped that wasn’t a sign.
Emerie
My head felt like I’d been run over by a car full of pissed-off AA members. I was so thirsty, my mouth had been overtaken by a desert, yet every sip of water made me queasy. Jesus. No wonder I don’t drink very often.
The only good thing about this hangover was that I was so busy feeling like crap, I didn’t have the capacity to think about last night.
Drew.
That kiss.
That kiss.
Baldwin.
Holding my breath, I walked into the office even later than my normal late. I didn’t have a session until the afternoon, but I was behind on typing my notes into patient files.
The thought of facing Drew suddenly made my hangover nausea seem like just a warm up for the real thing. I was relieved when I turned the corner into the hallway to see his door was shut. The awkwardness with him was inevitable, but it would be easier when I felt better. Putting it off as long as possible seemed ideal at the moment.
Inside my office, I hung my coat on the rack behind the door and popped my laptop into the docking station. It wasn’t until I sat down at my desk and reached to flip on my monitor that I saw the note. It was Drew’s handwriting:
All day deposition in Jersey. Won’t be back until tonight. Need you to do me a favor and go upstairs to my apartment. I left a note with instructions in the kitchen. Penthouse East. Keycard for the elevator and door key are in your top drawer. Thanks, D.
That was odd. I attempted to settle in and answer a few emails, but curiosity wasn’t going to wait long. Taking the key and elevator card from my desk, I headed out to the lobby after less than five minutes. On the ride up, I watched the lights illuminate in a daze. I knew Drew lived in the building, but he’d never mentioned it was the penthouse. What could he need me to do in his apartment? Did he have a cat?
The shiny silver elevator doors slid open when I reached the top floor. Stepping off, there were only two doors, PW and PE. Unlike my apartment, the Penthouse East lock turned easily. Drew had written that he wouldn’t be back until tonight, yet I felt compelled to call out as I cracked the door open.
“Hello?... Hello? Anyone home?”
The apartment was quiet. No furry little creatures greeted me at the door either. I closed it behind me and went in search of the kitchen.
Holy shit.
Drew Jagger’s apartment was stunning.
Mouth hanging open, I walked right past the sleek kitchen, down two steps into the sunken living room and went to the wall of glass. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a view of Central Park that could have been plucked out of a movie. After taking in the scenery for a few minutes, I unglued my eyes and went back to the kitchen. On the granite countertop was a note:
Down the hall, first door on the right.
What the?
There was only one hall. My palms were sweaty when I reached for the doorknob. Why was I so nervous?
I had no idea what to expect, so I pushed the door open ever so slowly. Only to find…an empty bathroom? I was still holding the note from the kitchen in my hand, so I rechecked the directions. First door on the right. Assuming he must have made a mistake, I was just about to shut the door when I saw a sticky on the mirror above the sink. I flicked on the light and took a good look around the room before reading it. It was one hell of a nice bathroom. Bigger than the bedroom in my apartment. Turning to meet my reflection, I pulled the sticky note from the mirror.
Bag on counter. Got you some girly bath stuff. Remote to tub jets in bag, too. Happy belated birthday. Enjoy your day. P.S. Motrin in medicine cabinet.
Unexpectedly, my eyes welled up with tears. The hard-ass destroyer of relationships had a soft side.
My skin was getting pruney. I’d actually dozed off for twenty minutes soaking in the tranquil tub and listening to Norah Jones. Drew had picked up bath salts, lavender bubble bath, and two small lavender candles. The odd feeling I had stripping out of my clothes and drawing a bath in an unfamiliar home quickly faded when I stepped into the warm water.
I’d been in the tub for more than a half hour, and the water was starting to chill, yet I st
ill wanted to try out the whirlpool jets. I opened the drain for a minute, then added some scalding water to warm the bath back up. Grabbing the tiny remote, I pushed a couple of buttons, and the tub whirled to life.
Mmmm, that feels heavenly.
I increased the pressure of the jets on my back and covered the one at my feet with the arch of my right foot, simulating a foot massage.
It really felt like a massage. When was the last time anyone actually gave me a massage? A man? It had been a long time. Too long. Which was probably why when I shut my eyes to enjoy the sensation, I began thinking what that sensation would feel like other places on my body.
And that brought my mind right back to Drew.
That kiss.
That kiss.
Sigh. I hadn’t realized Baldwin had walked into the hallway, and Drew was only doing it to make him jealous. It had felt so real. So filled with desire. The way he pressed his body up against mine so hard, holding me so tight, I thought it was hunger fueling the kiss. And even though I’d been startled by it at first, my body had reacted immediately. Which was why when I realized he’d only done it because Baldwin was watching, to make him jealous, I was flooded with so many mixed emotions.
Today I was also confused for another reason. I seemed to be more concerned about things turning weird between me and Drew than I was about what Baldwin would think.
Since I had the man on the brain, I decided to send Drew a text. I wasn’t even sure if he was a texter—I’d never really seen him pay attention to his phone other than to answer it.
Emerie: This might be my new favorite birthday present ever. Thank you.
My pathetic heart sped up when I saw dots start jumping.
Drew: Topping a gift to slice open your eyeballs, which you returned? You’re damn easy to please.
I laughed. I also moved my foot to uncover the jet and spread my legs to feel the water pressure.
Emerie: It was really sweet of you. This bathtub is heavenly.