by Ellie Rowe
Hang on. I turn slowly to my right and smile. Roger is still here.
If the first night with him was something, then last night was SOMETHING. For all the trouble sleeping with him caused, I must admit… I’m really glad to hear him snoring lightly next to me. It’s actually quite cute.
Even seeing the way his lips press together as he breathes makes my thighs clench. His arm is flung out of the sheets, and I can make out every curve of muscle underneath his taut, tanned skin. He’s a vision.
I rest my palm under my head and cozy up to drink him in; tousled blonde hair, that gorgeous jawline. I can remember how it felt to have him brush his stubble against my cheek and… other areas.
I can make out the top of his broad chest before he’s made modest by the sheets. His outline is gorgeously present underneath, like a Grecian god in a toga. My eyes wander down his frame until… oh my.
Looks like someone’s already enjoying his morning. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I enjoyed the view? I grab my side of the sheets and gently lift them ever so slowly, so as not to wake the sleeping prince.
Good God, he’s massive, and stiff as a board in the morning. I wonder if he’d enjoy a wakeup call? I bite my lip, tempted; but decide better of it. It’s not polite to stare.
I lay the sheets back down, feeling warm and buzzing from my morning view.
I need a shower. Last night was like a triathlon of fucking, and I can’t say I smell like roses after all that exertion. Maybe I can sneak it in while he’s still sleeping.
I creep out of bed and tiptoe past him, praying the lush carpet dampens my steps enough to keep him slumbering. My mission proves successful, and I make it to the bathroom without so much as a peep from Roger.
I close the door slowly and breathe a sigh of relief. Oh, brother. I slap myself on the cheek.
“What has gotten into you?” I whisper as I look at my naked frame in the mirror. “You’re acting like a bomb’s about to go off if he so much as stirs!” I chastise myself as I wander over to the shower.
The water feels amazing. I really ought to stretch after that kind of a night. I flex my arms and back as the water rushes over my skin. The shower head is pummeling into my sore muscles, but I can’t quite relax. I have a decision to make, haven’t I?
I think about the offer Roger made last night. It was really generous, extremely, ridiculously generous. But can I really take it? I sigh and press my forehead against the tile.
What would that mean anyway? I’ve always been independent, even with my ex-husband. We were both content to keep our work separate (especially because I loathed his), and we valued our time alone.
Of course, the time alone stretched further and further until I couldn’t reach him anymore, and by the end of it, I didn’t want to. Now, Roger…
I twist the dial to the coldest setting. That man makes my skin hot and I need to think clearly here for a moment. What does he want from me, offering this kind of thing? Is he expecting me to be grateful to him? Christ, this is… a lot.
I shiver under the cold water. It’s terrible, but it’s definitely waking me up. My skin ripples into goosebumps and my nipples grow hard and tender, the subtle and pleasurable pain a remnant from last night.
Lord, even a cold shower isn’t safe from thoughts of him. Oh, well, why risk the inevitable? He’s still sleeping in my bed, right? If it’s still my bed that is…
I dry off and think about walking out wrapped tightly in a towel. I stare at myself in the mirror. It’s not a bad look. My hair is still slightly damp, and my breasts have constricted under the tightness of the towel, spilling over at the top.
I creak open the door and peek my head around. Still sound asleep. I bite my lip to keep from giggling. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. I guess that’s what it must be like when you’ve never had to worry about where your next paycheck is coming from.
Or maybe it’s just a job well done on my part. I think about slipping into bed behind him and pushing myself against his back. Slinking over to him, I step over his button-down. Now there’s an idea.
Letting my towel drop to the floor, I pick up his shirt and button it, leaving plenty of room at the top for him to glimpse my naked chest. It comes to the top of my thighs, barely covering my ass. Perfect.
I mean, guys like this kind of look, right? Wearing his shirt and nothing else. It’s strange, me wanting to please him. But, fuck, after the way he pleased me, I’m gonna go with it. I decide to sneak back around to my side, gracefully draping myself over the sheets, letting him notice my new outfit.
I lay down a little roughly, hoping my movement will stir him awake. Just as I get myself (noisily) situated, Roger’s eyes flutter open to meet mine. My heart skips to see the way he smiles when he first sees me.
“Well,” he grins and reaches out a hand to finger the buttons on my shirt. His shirt. “Nice outfit.”
“Thanks,” I say as I take his wandering hand and kiss his fingertips. “I thought you’d like it. It’s kind of your style.”
“Exactly my style, as a matter of fact,” Roger raises an eyebrow and lets his hand follow the curve of my frame. He inhales deeply as his hands brush over my hips, realizing I’m not wearing anything underneath.
“So,” he says after he clears his throat, “Are you gonna accept my offer?”
Wow, I was hoping we’d have a bout of morning sex or something before we got to the heavy stuff. At least a cup of coffee, for pity’s sake.
“Ah, that,” I say, playing a bit dumb. I’m still conflicted. But, looking at him, the way the sunlight mingles with the blonde in his hair and his blue eyes fucking sparkling in the morning…
“I’ve decided… I’d like to stay. If you’ll have me,” Roger’s face lights up and he starts to pull me in. “Just until the end of the month.”
Roger frowns and I place a gentle hand on his chest, “just to see how things go.”
Roger grunts, but nods. “I’m glad you’ve accepted my offer.” He takes my hand in his and the fireworks start all over again. “I want to help you.”
“I know that,” I say, but I pull my hand from his. I can’t become dependent on someone like him over something like this. “But we need to set some clear boundaries here. About what this means, for me, for… us.”
I glance up to see how Roger is taking this. To his credit, he seems understanding, though still concerned I’ll run. Maybe I should. What am I doing here, getting all caught up in the guy who cost me my job?
He starts to stroke my hip softly, and I remember at least one of the reasons I’m hanging around. “Independence is important to me, Roger…”
“Hey, say no more,” Roger says as he puts his hands up in surrender. “I get it. And I know you’re good in business, so you’re looking for an angle here, but, I promise you…” he reaches for my hand and kisses my palm. I can feel his teeth against the skin and it’s enough to make me moan.
“This is a gift with strings attached. I wanna help you, Natalie.” He lowers my hand so I can stare deeply into those gorgeous blue eyes. “I mean it.”
Fuck me if I don’t absolutely believe him. How can I not?
I still don’t trust him fully. I’ve been fucked over by ‘the good guy’ one too many times to just waltz into such a proposition unaware, but at least he seems sincere. Genuine.
Maybe this whole thing won’t work out at all, and I’m kidding myself, but it could at least help me get my feet back on the ground while I sort out another job. Roger tousles my hair and slips his fingers down to fondle the top button of my — his shirt.
God that feels good. Something tells me I’ll be flat on my back before I’m back on my feet, but I’ll get there eventually. I slip his hand inside my shirt and revel in the feel of his palm on my naked breasts.
Might as well enjoy this while it lasts.
Fourteen
Roger
OK, this is good! I mean, I’m shocked she said yes to the arrangement. I seriously assumed I’d
make the offer and she’d slap me again. After all, didn’t she make a big deal about me paying off Weasel? Letting her live rent-free is an even bigger bail out.
I was sure someone as adamantly pull-herself-up-by-her-expensive-pumps as Natalie would recoil at the idea of accepting help on that level. Maybe her saying ‘yes’ to the arrangement is a sign of…
Of what, Roger?
Of her feelings for you?
Holy shit. Maybe she’s falling for me. Wouldn’t that be something?
I think of us lying in bed together last night. I remember how she shifted into me as she slept; how natural it felt; how comfortable.
By the time I get to the office, I’m feeling giddy; like how all the pop songs describe… well… you know.
Even the sight of my lawyer, Gerald Harris, greeting me with a scowl isn’t enough to dampen my mood at first. He stands up the second I enter my office. I can guess why he’s here. Come to lecture me about walking out on the deal with that jack-off, Jared.
“Roger…” he begins.
“Save it, Gerald,” I tell him. I hang up my jacket and check the messages and mail sitting on my desk.
“I will not save it!” he shouts at me. His anger takes me aback. Gerald is usually cool as a cucumber. “What’s going on with the girl?”
OK. He’s officially dampening my mood. I slap my mail back on the desk. “Nothing.”
“That’s not what it looks like.”
“Well, I can’t help what it looks like.”
“We were about to sign the deal!” he cries out. Seeing the anger beginning to flush my face, Gerald backs off, pacing my office. He’s about twenty years older than me, tall and lanky. His hair is full and white, but he’s never looked old. This deal falling apart, however, appears to have aged him. He fills the room with his anxiety.
I try to get him to see it from my point of view. “Jared Barron’s a piece of shit.”
“I don’t disagree.”
“We don’t need to be in business with a piece of shit.”
“All you had to do was sign a contract.”
Why is he coming at me like this? “If I want to walk away from a negotiation,” I insist, “then I’ll walk away. It’s my deal.”
“It’s not just your deal.” He stops pacing and marches over to my desk. “You know how many people were involved in making this happen? Not just you, and me, and my team. Consultants. Architects. Electricians and specialists who helped us with the estimates. A lot of people put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into helping you make this deal happen. A lot of people had hopes and money riding on it. And you had the nerve to walk away from all that because of some… some…”
“Some what?”
My tone lets him know he’s treading on thin ice. He takes a breath and gets ahold of himself. Lucky for him, or I might be looking for a new law firm in addition to a new piece of real estate.
“Roger,” he says more calmly, “you know my feelings about your personal life. If it doesn’t affect business, then it’s none of my business. We both know sometimes your escapades add to your mystique, which is good for business.”
He takes another breath and I brace myself for his closing argument. “But, this time. Whatever is going on with this Natalie, you need to get it under control, so it doesn’t interfere with your work any more than it already has.”
“I’m telling you one last time, Gerald, there’s nothing ‘going on’ with Natalie,” I say.
“Well, Christ, Roger, don’t tell me, tell it to the fucking world.” He gestures behind me, out the window. “Because it’s all anyone in this office is talking about. It’s all I hear at the club, at the restaurants. Hell, it seems like it’s all the entire real estate world of New York City is talking about!”
“Considering the real estate world here is only one step up from the sewers, I wouldn’t put too much stock in that.”
“It’s all you’re thinking about.” His words hit me like one of Natalie’s slaps. He’s not wrong. I hate it when a lawyer isn’t wrong about something. “I’ve never seen you sloppy, not in the middle of a deal.”
“I didn’t get sloppy,” I counter, but even I can hear the lack of conviction in my voice.
“You got emotional. You let Jared goad you into making a big mistake.”
“I knew what I was doing.” Dammit. Why do I still sound less than convincing?
Gerald certainly isn’t. He keeps his lecture going. “That deal with Barron’s company was months in the making. The fact that you walked away from it, and over some ribbing about a girl, is going to make others hot for that building. You’ll be out and Jared will reap the rewards.”
“Fine, let him.” Now I sound fucking petulant! What is going on with me?
“You think it stops with 755?” Gerald asks. “Jared’s going all around town telling his version of what happened yesterday. Jesus, every office we walk into for the next three months is going to be giving us shit about it. Are you going to walk out of all of those deals, too?”
I sit down in my high-backed, leather executive chair. Despite all the grown-up fanciness of the seat, I feel like a little boy who’s been caught drawing on the walls with a permanent marker.
“You’re right,” I say softly, my eyes downcast, staring at my dark leather desk pad. “You’re absolutely right.” I meet his gaze.
“I’m sorry. I let personal shit get in the way. I let Jared win.” I spread my hands wide in defeat and ask, “How do we fix this?”
Gerald relaxes. He buttons up his suit coat, clearly relieved to be back in business mode. “I’m working on getting things back on the right track. His people know that, in the end, it’s best for Jared to deal with us than the other lowlifes in town.”
“If anyone can set things right, it’s you,” I tell him. “Let me know if I can help. And thank you.”
Gerald nods curtly. “I’m billing you for this little reaming out, by the way.”
“I’d be shocked and disappointed if you didn’t,” I joke back, relieved to be on good terms with him again. Gerald’s been with me for a long time. I’d hate to lose him.
He starts to go, but just before he opens the office door, he glances back at me. There’s something grandfatherly in his gaze. “She that special?”
That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?
“She might be,” I say.
Gerald smiles and goes.
The door clicks shut behind him. I swivel my chair to face my view of Manhattan. It’s impressive and I’m pleased that I’ve never taken this panorama for granted. I’ve got a straight shot past the Chrysler Building, the Empire State, Liberty Tower, and clear down to the Statue of Liberty. I can also see a big chunk of New Jersey’s swampy coast, which is admittedly less impressive.
Gerald just put me through the ringer. I think I probably deserved it. I run through what he accused me of. He’s right — I got emotional. I let the flood of hormones I’m experiencing cloud my thinking, not only in business, but I’ve possibly let it cloud my thinking with Natalie, too.
Was asking her to stay with me as stupid a move as walking out on the 755 deal?
My eyes drift across the skyline. Off to my left, about fifteen blocks south and through a gap between two high rises, it’s possible to see my apartment building.
Natalie’s there.
In that building.
Under my care.
The thought makes me feel… well, a little horny, to be honest. I’m also excited; an excitement that’s tied to more than just sex. I’m excited to know that when I get there, she’ll be there, too.
There’s something else going on inside me. Another feeling that’s kind of crawling through my belly.
It feels right that she’s there in my building. Since I first saw her at Giuseppe’s and we got covered in wine, it seems all I want to do is protect her. To make her feel safe. To make her happy. And that desire has only grown with each encounter.
So, what do you want to
call that? ‘Falling for her’? The big ‘L-word’?
It’s an overwhelming thought. It feels as vast as my city view. What am I supposed to do with a feeling that wide, with that many complications?
Fuck it. What I know for sure is, she’ll be there when I get home. All the rest I can deal with when the time comes.
I spin back to face my office and get to work.
Fifteen
Natalie
“Thank you, I understand... Yes, thank you for your time... Okay. Bye then.” I hit the end button and drop my phone on the couch, watching it bounce before settling a couple of cushions away.
Well, it’s been a thoroughly demoralizing day. I just hung up with the last phone call in a very long line of failed attempts. I’ve called every single major fashion magazine where I know someone — and I’m talking loose connections here — trying to get a fucking interview.
No one is biting; not even as a junior editor or copywriter. Hell, I probably couldn’t get a job fetching coffee for the junior editor. I run my hands through my hair and sigh, sinking further into the plush sofa.
All told, I’m feeling pretty shitty. Not even my favorite, most comfortable couch is cheering me up. Although, looking around this room, this amazing place, this home… I’m grateful to have the next few weeks here at least.
My phone lights up and I lunge for it. Damn, just a reminder that I was supposed to have a board meeting today to discuss next month’s issue. Delete. Delete. Delete. I drop the phone down again and stare at the high ceiling.
If another job doesn’t pan out soon, I really don’t feel comfortable relying on someone’s charity, even someone as good-looking and insanely excellent in bed as Roger Zane. Not only is my pride at stake, but how will it look?
I’ve already been raked through the tabloids, once they figure out I’m living here rent-free, I can just see the headlines — ‘Sugar Baby’ or ‘Escort’ or ‘Roger Zane’s New Ho’. I groan at the thought. It’s not even close to true.