You're Still the One

by Sasha Clinton

  She fished out a black skirt which was similar to the one she was wearing. Her feet gave out when she saw the price tag.

  Five hundred and ninety-five dollars. For a skirt.

  Her pulse picked up. Why would Andrew buy her something so expensive? He hadn’t been so extravagant during their marriage. He must be trying to intimidate her with his wealth. Or maybe… well, there was going to be no maybe.

  She debated on whether she should accept such a lavish gift from him. Not that she had any choice now. She’d pay him back, she assured herself. Even if it meant scrimping on her food budget for the rest of the month.

  The soft fabric of the skirt glided over her curves smoothly. It was a perfect fit. She’d gained a few pounds since the divorce, so it took a while to zip the skirt.

  Oh, the frustrations of being apple-shaped.

  She picked up the bag again to leave, but felt something move inside.

  At the bottom was a red box that held a pair of white ballerinas. Miu Miu. The white satin which was wrapped over the shoes was silken. A glittery bow ornamented the otherwise plain shoes. They were simple and elegant. Andrew’s taste.

  She hadn’t asked for shoes, but he must have noticed her broken heel. Her chest buzzed at his thoughtfulness. She could fall in love with him all over again if she wasn’t careful.

  Ashley ensconced her tired feet into the comfortable flats. Heaven. There was a layer of padding cushioning the soles. Andrew could be counted on to take care of the small details.

  She felt so good she wanted to hug him. Then she looked at the price tag sticking out from the side and her heart did a backflip—this time due to pure, unadulterated shock.

  Eight hundred and fifty dollars, it said. Okay, they were designer shoes, so they were bound to be expensive. But this expensive?

  Ashley’s head spun as she totaled up the amount she owed him. It took her a while, since mental math wasn’t her strongest skill. A thousand, four hundred and forty-five dollars. Almost a fourth of her monthly salary.

  Did Andrew accept monthly installments?

  Andrew was hanging out close to the bathroom. He shook his head in approval when he saw her in the new clothes. Ashley closed the gap between them with unsure steps.

  “It fits you well,” he remarked. His eyes covered the landscape of her lower body.

  “Can I pay you back later? I’m not carrying cash with me now.”

  He waved dismissively. “Forget it. You paid for the meal at Pink Fish. Consider this my gift.”

  “That meal didn’t cost upwards of a thousand dollars. And it wasn’t my money—it was the company’s.” She wasn’t going to accept gifts from him when he had no business giving them to her.

  “Price doesn’t matter. What matters is the intention.”

  “And what exactly was your intention in buying me such expensive stuff? I didn’t ask for a designer skirt or designer shoes.” She put her hands on her hips.

  Andrew blew out an exhausted puff of air.

  “Saks was the first shop I spotted, okay? Maybe I should have thought more about how offended you’d be to receive such extravagant gifts from me, but I was in a hurry. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not offended.” Did she look offended?

  “Then why do you look so pissed?”

  “Andrew…” Her hesitation was gone in a second.

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you. And I’m sorry for not saying it earlier.”

  He’d saved her ass, quite literally. If she wanted to pick a fight over the price, she should do it after she had expressed her gratitude.

  “You’re welcome.” Beads of sweat glistened at his temples—a sign of his hurried excursion to Saks.

  Telling herself that she was just being nice, she held out a tissue to him. At his confused expression, she mopped his forehead herself. Her skin touched his and her legs began to buckle. But thanks to his him buying her flats, she remained stable on her feet. Sometimes Andrew could be so smart. She avoided looking at his eyes, but when she did, she saw her reflection. And there was no doubt about the expression on her face.

  Andrew snatched away the tissue from her and interrupted their contact.

  Their eyes scanned all the wrong parts of each other’s bodies. The air became saturated with flammable tension—threatening to explode as soon as an ignition source was found. Only the sound of people around them kept them apart. His taut muscles rippled against the thin cotton of his blue shirt. She wondered how his body looked now, under that stuffy jacket.

  He cast her a worried glance.

  “I’ll go and get my copy signed by Sam before it gets hotter… I mean busier.” Even the infallible Andrew Smith was frazzled. Shit, this was bad.

  He wound down the flight of stairs to the main level of the bookstore. Without thinking twice, she trailed him.

  “Don’t follow me.” Liquid lust simmered in his eyes.

  One. Two. The countdown started in her head. She wouldn’t last beyond five.

  Three, four… They both knew where this was going. She pulled him into a dark nook of the bookstore, away from prying eyes.

  His scent blotted out everything else in the vicinity. And his eyes… his magnetic, stormy eyes… trapped her into the prison that was him.

  He’s Andrew Smith. He’s Andrew Smith, she recited to herself, hoping she’d snap out of the haze, yet the only thing his name did was make her burn hotter for him.

  She resorted to mental distraction, meditation, deep breaths, chanting… but it was too late. She was past the threshold of rational reasoning.

  There was only one way out of this—and she took it. Cupping his face, she plunged into the most satisfying, delicious sin.

  Her lips draped over his, recognizing him, welcoming him back. Oh, it had been so long. So long and so lonely without him. One hot, hungry tongue glided over another until she couldn’t tell which one was hers. He tasted different. Like wine, he had acquired a more pleasing flavor with time.

  The slow groan from his throat melted into her mouth, ratcheting up the conflagration consuming her ecstatic nerve endings.

  It was a devastatingly powerful, carnal reunion. One she hoped would last as long as eternity, yet lasted barely a few seconds longer until someone’s sneeze jolted them both out of their kiss.

  “Don’t ask me why I did it. I just felt like doing it,” she said, the instant she regained her breath… some of it, at least.

  “What else do you feel like doing?”

  “A lot of things. None of which I should be doing.” She wet her lips.

  “Me too.” His gaze descended to the zipper of her skirt.

  “Your place or mine?” Her lips played over his jaw. She licked the strong bone.

  That drew a smirk from him. “I thought you said you shouldn’t be doing this.”

  “I don’t mean everything I say.”

  “Mine, then.”

  Chapter 10

  “Let me make this clear. This is a one-night stand,” Ashley said, when she was in his Bugatti. Setting boundaries was priority number one here.

  Right now, she might be too coiled up in hormones to care about the fact that she was sleeping with her ex-husband, but she was going to feel differently about this when the unresolved anger and betrayal snuck up on her again.

  “We’d both be stupid if we let it progress beyond that.” he agreed.

  Now that Andrew was on the same page, she could actually focus on the snazzy, neon-orange upholstery of the car.

  “You bought a new car?” she enquired. This was her first time inside a luxury car and it did feel different.

  “Last year. You like it?” He stroked it tenderly, like it was his baby.

  “It’s a real upgrade from the Accent.” she remarked.

  “It is. And it’s French, which attracted me to it. Do you know I’m French on my mother’s side?”

  “No wonder you’re such a natural charmer.”

  “Not sure my employees would agre
e with that assessment of yours. I’m only charming when I’m around you.”

  And she had to wonder why. She couldn’t possibly be at the top of his favorite list. Suddenly, she remembered a conversation from long ago. “I thought you didn’t know anything about your mother?”

  “I had an agency investigate her. She’s living happily with two kids and three grandkids in Cape Cod.” There wasn’t anything in that tone she could use to ascertain how he felt about his mother’s new life.

  “Don’t you want to meet her?”

  “No. Seatbelt.”

  The engines purred. Even they couldn’t help but respond to Andrew’s touch.

  “So where is this apartment of yours?” she asked, when they’d hit the road and Fifth Avenue was a shadow in the rearview mirror.

  “It’s in Manhattan. I bought a place on Riverside Boulevard a few years ago. Where are you living these days?” Andrew asked, turning on the music. Jazz. And coincidentally Julie London.

  “Brooklyn.”

  “You moved quite far.”

  “The rent was lower,” She wasn’t exactly making an eight-figure income to be buying property in Manhattan.

  “Looks like a traffic jam. A bad one,” she said. Up ahead, a river of cars stretched as far as their eyes could see.

  “It’ll clear,” Andrew said, optimistically.

  After fifteen minutes, they had not moved an inch and his optimism had degenerated into impatience.

  “We’re going to be stuck here all night at this rate.” Andrew slammed the wheel.

  “Good. Maybe we’ll come to our senses and realize that sleeping with each other is a really bad idea.” She could hope.

  “Or maybe we’ll get too impatient to wait and decide to have sex in the car.” He flirted with his eyes. “I’m seriously toying with the idea.”

  “Not a chance. We weren’t that reckless even when we were twenty-two.”

  “Age gives you the license to do many things.”

  “We are not that old. We’re only in our early thirties.” If she wasn’t careful, they were going to end up getting charged with indecent exposure.

  “Are we? I feel so old.”

  That resonated with her—she didn’t feel quite like thirty-one, either. She’d seen too much in her short life. A marriage, a divorce, illness, death of a parent.

  And she wondered, as she sat in the car and looked at Andrew, what else was to come.

  ***

  Thanks to the endless traffic jam, it was past midnight when they came to the penthouse that Andrew owned on Riverside Boulevard. The multistoried monolith, with its glass facade and hundreds of shiny lit windows, carved itself out against the black sky like a tower of light.

  Through the revolving doors, the reception area was exceptionally quiet except for the buzzing of the air conditioner. The night security guy was watching the CCTV footage, eating a burger. Andrew pressed the elevator button and they rode to the fifteenth floor.

  A huge window, offering a sumptuous view was the only feature in the silent corridor. Only one apartment on this floor—and Andrew keyed in the password. A beep later, he widened the gap in the door so their bodies could fit through.

  An involuntary gasp rolled out of her.

  It was like one of those ultra-chic, dream homes that appeared in home magazines. Immaculately clean—as it could only be if the house owner was a millionaire with a housekeeper coming in every day. Every single piece of furniture was eye-catching and unique, like it had been custom-built. A television was embedded on the wood-paneled wall. Little lights from the ceiling illuminated the sofa with colorful cushions than occupied a whole wall’s length.

  “You brought me here to show off, didn’t you?” She touched the flowers planted inside an African-themed vase.

  “That might have been part of my motive,” Andrew admitted, with an unapologetic smile.

  The living room was carpeted in beige. The Hudson River could be seen through the sliding glass doors that guarded a spacious balcony with a pair of chairs around a garden table. Unable to resist getting closer so she could view the river at night, Ashley took off her shoes and opened the balcony door.

  A slap of the humid air she’d just escaped hit her cheek. But for the stunning landscape view, it was worth it. She was envious of him—he could greet every morning looking out at the sun rise over the waters.

  “It’s breathtaking,” she remarked.

  He hugged her back. “I find you more breathtaking than the scenery.”

  Drawing her away from the balcony with his hand dropping to her waist, Andrew drew white curtains over the sliding doors and turned to her. His expression was unmistakable.

  The rumble of red-hot desire conquered her nerves.

  Time to do the honors. She took off the blouse and let down the zip of her skirt. With a rough yank, she managed to get rid of her pantyhose. Flinging the bobby pins holding her hair in place to the floor, she freed her hair.

  Andrew’s eyes never once left her and by the looks of it, he was enjoying watching her strip. Wearing nothing but lingerie, she tiptoed to the sofa and slumped to it. He tore off his coat impatiently and then shook off his shoes and neared her, keeping the invisible thread holding their gazes intact.

  Nestling her body on the fluffy surface, she cooed, “Come.”

  Fully clothed, he reclined against the sofa. Ashley transferred herself to his lap, curling her feet around his waist. Her sensitive folds grated against his trousers, protected only by the sheer black fabric of her panties.

  She unbuttoned his shirt, one little button at a time, bringing her breasts closer to him.

  “We only have one night,” he reminded her.

  “Patience.”

  “I’m trying, dear.”

  She bit his earlobe and then worked her teeth up to where the cartilage joined with his cheekbones.

  Not content at staying still, he lifted her breasts, stroking the undersides with barely-there touches of his fingers. A low groan came from her lips. She was most sensitive there, even more than her nipples. His light teasing sent her into heaven. He still knew her so well.

  “This is almost too pretty to remove, but it has to go.” He eased the bra from her body. Her boobs poured over his face and his breath traveled over the mounds. Gooseflesh broke out all over her.

  He took her nipples one by one, not using his tongue, but rather tormenting them with the tip of his maroon silk tie, running them over her buds, her areolas, her undersides, till the shivers coursing through her made her collapse back into the couch. Real silk over her sent her to the edge of paradise and then back again. She curled her toes when the pleasure became too much to bear.

  It was amazing, the things he could do to her. And he hadn’t even started using his tongue or hands yet.

  She ground her hips against his penis and squeezed it between her thighs.

  “You’ve already got me hard, baby. Now let’s get rid of these damn clothes.”

  Andrew let her undo the zipper of his pants. They slipped to the beige carpet, along with his boxers. She went over his shaft, corded by muscle and vein. There was so much she wanted to do to him.

  “Safety first.” Typical of Andrew to say that. And even more typical of her to have forgotten about that.

  Since their divorce, her sex life had become such a wasteland that even basic safety rules were obscure to her now. In fact, she almost didn’t remember anything about sex except anatomy.

  With her straddled onto his hips, he picked out a condom from the drawer beside the sofa and put it on. Her breaths grew shaky as she took in the raw, masculine beauty of him being wrapped in latex. She could have kept watching, if not for the hurricane of hormones clawing at her.

  When he was ready, she continued pounding him between the V of her legs without penetration, hearing his breath grow shallower and more erratic as he tried to accommodate the rapture.

  “Use your hands,” he begged.

  “It’s not a lap
dance if I do.” She was going to make him suffer a little longer. That would make his release all the more satisfying.

  Pulling her face over his, she whispered her next command. “Lie down.”

  “What are you planning?”

  “Shhh. It’s a surprise.”

  She climbed over his chest, until her pussy was close to his mouth and her mouth faced his erect length.

  “I’ve never seen you so up close before,” he said, then his tongue flicked out and teased her clitoris and the flesh that surrounded it. She arched her stomach, unable to withstand the pleasure whipping her. She was so close.

  Grabbing his penis, she skimmed over the ridges with the edge of her tongue to build up tension and then released it by taking him in her mouth. Her hands swiped over the base. She echoed everything he did to her, every sharp snap, every lingering caress until they both came simultaneously. Her world shattered until her body was empty of everything, except a deep, pulsing sense of satiation.

  “Ashley…” His voice faded into the blur of euphoria. A light pat on her butt made her sit up in his lap.

  “That was fucking awesome.” The gray of his eyes had almost turned black.

  “My pleasure.”

  “Mine, too.”

  Trying to count all the stars from the sexual explosion looming in front of her eyes, she failed. The number was too large for her limited math skill to quantify.

  She flopped onto his bare chest. In contrast to years ago, it was much more toned. And hair-free. Her fingers slithered over the hard valleys of carved muscles and she couldn’t stop herself from licking those yummy abs, especially now that there wasn’t any hair that would get tangled up with her tongue.

  His stomach shuddered. “I’m ticklish.”

  “Someone’s been working hard at the gym,” she remarked.

  “And someone’s been getting sexier by the year.”

  His arm coiled around her. Wet and sweaty after couch sex, they both took the next couple of minutes to just breathe and lie over each other.

  Her fingernails dug deeper into the soft, yielding body of the couch. She dragged her cheek to his chest and reveled in the coziness of lying against him. The ballooning of his stomach as he breathed in kneaded her cheek. It had been ages since she’d had this much physical contact with someone, ages since she had surrendered to another so completely.