I clap him on the shoulder. “A little to the left, thank you very much.” Delaney snickers, and I turn to my running partner and make intros. “Delaney, this is Oliver. He works at my firm and pretends to talk American sometimes. Oliver, this is the lovely Delaney. We went to college together.”
Oliver pushes his mess of dark hair off his forehead and smiles at Delaney. With a slight bow of the head, he reaches for her hand and kisses the top. “Charmed,” he says, this time in his proper accent.
“I see you’re from Italy,” she jokes.
Oliver laughs and points at me. “She’s a keeper.”
I take her hand. “That’s the goal.”
Oliver turns his attention back to Delaney. “I trust you demolished him on the running path?”
“I did my absolute best to make sure he ate my dust.”
I adopt an abject frown. “It was terrible to have to watch her backside the entire time.”
On Wednesday, we plan a mid-afternoon coffee date. I wait for her outside a café on Columbus, shades on, head bent, answering emails on my phone.
As I tap out a reply to a client, soft lips flutter across my cheek. Sweet and delicious, they light sparks down my spine. I stop writing, stuff the phone in my pocket, and cup her cheek in my hand.
Turning her face to me, I kiss her on the street, and we spend our whole coffee date like that. Sans coffee and with kissing.
We walk and talk and kiss, like we’re practicing all the kinds of kissing in the world.
There’s the street corner kiss, the nibble on the lips kiss, then the so soft it’s barely there lip-lock. Somehow, even that last one sets my bones on fire.
But none more than the one I give her on Seventy-Eighth Street, as I push her up against the stoop outside a brownstone. Grabbing her jaw, I hold her face as I bestow a harsh, hungry kiss on those lips I fucking love.
She moans so helplessly that I have no choice but to crowd her against the banister and kiss her more cruelly, using teeth, sucking lips, devouring her taste. Her body melts into mine, and her arms rope round my neck. Her every sound and sigh tells me she likes it like this.
But I stop soon because the clock is ticking and I have a conference call at four. “I need to get back to work soon. I only have ten more minutes.”
“Me, too. I need to return to work, too.” She drops her gaze to the sidewalk, then looks up. Gone is the dark desire. In its place is something I haven’t seen in a while. She looks like a deer. She looks scared.
She swallows. Shit. Fuck. No. She’s going to end things, and they’ve barely started. My brain goes into hyperdrive, cycling back through the last few days to figure out where I’ve gone wrong. Did I say something thoughtless? Do something careless?
She runs her finger over the collar of my shirt. “I made a mistake.”
My throat clogs now. “What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t completely honest with you.”
I furrow my brow. “About what?”
She draws a sharp breath. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say this, but you know the other day when I said why I didn’t go to law school?”
She takes a beat, and I’m finally able to take a breath. “Sure. When we went for a run last Saturday?”
“Yes. I didn’t share the full story. I wasn’t sure how to say it all then, or if I was even ready to. But I want to be open with you even if it’s hard for me.”
I brush some hair off her face, tucking a strand behind her ear. “What is it, angel?”
Because whatever it is, I can handle it.
I mean, I think I can.
“When I said the debate competition was an eye-opener, it was. But, I’d already started thinking I didn’t want to go to law school.”
“Yeah? For how long?”
“For a few weeks. My father called me, and said something that made me rethink everything. I didn’t tell you all the details at the time.”
“I remember you mentioned the call. Why wouldn’t you tell me the details?” I ask, because I thought we’d worked through this issue before—her struggle to open up and share her hopes and fears.
“You were checking out, honestly. You were distant. But I can’t blame you entirely. I didn’t want to open up about the things he said. I didn’t want to give him all the credit for changing my mind.” She sighs. “Even though he was right.”
“What did he say?”
She inhales and raises her chin. “He said I’d make a good lawyer because I was like him. Because I’d always liked to fight. Just like he had with my mom.”
I cringe. “That must have hurt.”
She nods. “It hurt, and it was completely true. I liked to argue, but it ultimately wasn’t who I wanted to be. I didn’t want to be like him.” Her voice wobbles. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
I frown. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to give anyone any more power to hurt me. I didn’t want to keep serving up all these raw and exposed parts of myself to the men in my life, and let them just walk out.”
My heart aches for her—that she felt that way. But it aches too since she was right. I did walk out on her. “I wish you’d have said something then. But I guess I understand why you didn’t want to open up to me.”
She fixes me with a thoughtful stare. “It probably wouldn't even have made a difference.” Her tone is wistful, not angry.
“Delaney,” I say, wishing she wasn’t right.
“Would it have though?”
I sigh heavily, then shake my head. “No. But let’s do things differently this time around. I want you to be open with me now. I want you to tell me about your doubts and fears.” I grip her shoulders, holding her tight, so she gets it. So she knows I want to be there for her. And the least I can do is try to understand her heart and mind, even about something that happened eight years ago. “Tell me what you were thinking at the time. Tell me how the conversation made you feel.”
She fiddles with the collar on my shirt. Her nervous habit. “I started realizing he was right, and I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to argue. I saw too much of it growing up. Maybe that’s what drew me to law in the first place, but then I realized I want to heal, not to tear apart. That’s all the law felt like to me then. It was one long argument, and that’s what my home was like.” She takes a deep breath. It seems to fuel her. “I wanted a new path. One I chose for me. And when I went into the last debate, that’s why I said it was illuminating. I told myself it would be my last chance to decide what I truly wanted for my own future. When you won and I didn’t care that I'd lost, I knew I was done with law. I should have told you that when you asked me the other day in the park . . . but I didn’t.”
She’s shivering, even though it’s not cold. I wish this wasn’t always so hard for her to open up. But I understand why it is. I run my thumb along her jawline. “It’s okay. Thank you for telling me now.”
“I wasn’t sure what was happening between us that morning when we ran. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to say anything if I wasn’t going to see you again.”
My heart speeds up. “Are you sure now that you’re going to see me again? Because you better keep seeing me.”
She swats me playfully. “You better be sure too. Because I want to keep seeing you, Tyler Nichols.”
“And you will see me. And I want you to talk to me. To trust me. To open up. Do you want that?”
She draws a sharp breath. “I do.”
And I smile once more. Because there it is. She isn’t going to keep everything hidden. She isn’t going to spend her days wrapping herself in armor. She’ll take it off, so long as she knows I’ll be here. I drop a kiss to her forehead and linger there. “I want you to know your heart is safe with me.”
“I want it to be safe with you,” she whispers. She pulls back and shoots me a coy little look. Her voice turns flirty. “But are you sure you aren’t mad at me for not telling you the full truth when we went running?”
> I scoff. “Not even a little.”
She snaps her fingers in an aw-shucks gesture.
“Shame. Because I was ready to come to your office and grovel.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Did you say grovel?”
19
Delaney
* * *
The next morning, I ransack my closet, slip on some shoes, and make my way to Tyler’s office.
When the elevator dings on his floor, I smooth a hand over my hastily assembled outfit. Tight black skirt. Short-sleeve white blouse. Heels. They’re black and make me four inches taller.
Enough said.
He doesn’t know I’m coming. But the lift of his brow yesterday afternoon, and the glint in his eye, told me he’d be fine with an unexpected visitor who’s come to grovel.
The receptionist greets me with a cheery hello.
“I’m looking for Oliver Edgecombe.”
“Of course. Who shall I say is here?”
I set my hands on her desk, dart my eyes around, and whisper, “It’s Delaney, but can you keep it a secret? I’m surprising Tyler, and I need Oliver’s help. I don’t want Tyler to know I’m here to give him a neck massage.”
That’s my cover. Well, I suspect Oliver knows what a neck massage will probably turn into. But when I called him this morning to ask for his help, he went along with the premise. Bless him.
Holly smiles. “Of course.”
She dials Tyler’s coworker, and a few seconds later, the handsome man strides to the front of the office to greet me. We review the plan, and he gives me a thumbs-up.
“You’re a doll,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as he winks. “I hope someday some hot, strapping thing surprises me at my office with a neck massage. Someday soon, come to think of it.”
I smile. “I’ll hope that for you, too.”
The receptionist waves her hand, cutting in. “Yoo-hoo. Can I get in on this, too?”
“Of course, Holly.” Oliver whispers to her, and her blue eyes light up. She guides me to the copy room, ushers me in, and shuts the door.
“I love surprises,” Holly says, her tone giddy. “Tyler’s going to be so psyched to see you.”
I wonder how she knows that. “He is?”
Holly nods and keeps her voice hushed. “He’s crazy about you.”
“He mentions me?”
“Yes. Several times. All good. Plus, he’s always stretching his neck back and forth.”
I want to ask more, but I’ve already procured enough good news to float away on a cloud of bliss. I cock my head when I hear Oliver ask Tyler to come into his office. That’s the cue. Holly opens the copy room door, scans the hall, then beckons to me. She points across the hallway to Tyler’s office, sets a hand on my back, and guides me inside with a gentle shove.
“Should I shut the door?” she whispers.
I nod and mouth yes, please.
As soon as it clicks shut, I unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt and wait.
My heart jackhammers, and my skin heats up. With excitement. With hope. With desire.
“You got this, man. You’re the IP king,” Tyler’s voice booms from the hall, and a stupid grin spreads on my face. Is it crazy that I love that he’s praising his colleague? But I do. I love that he’s good to them. I love, too, that they want to help surprise him.
Most of all, I’m thrilled he’s about to open the door.
The doorknob creaks and then turns.
It’s now or never.
With a quickness, my fingers open more buttons.
“Weird. Don’t remember closing this,” he says to himself, as he opens the door all the way, and I pray he’s alone.
“You didn’t close it.”
He blinks and roams his eyes over me. It takes all of one second to register what’s happening, and in that wink of time, he slams the door shut. “Please say you’re not an illusion.”
“I’m not an illusion or a figment of your dirty imagination. But I am sorry.” I work open another button.
He shakes his head and gestures to me. “Never apologize for this.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more forthright when we went for a run,” I clarify, as I finish the final button.
“Feel free to keep everything inside again if it gets me this type of groveling,” he says, his voice husky.
My white blouse is undone now, so I strip it off, tossing it on his office couch. I’m wearing a black demi-cup bra, and his eyes linger on my breasts as I say, “I want you to know that I’m trying to share what’s on my mind.”
“What’s on it right now?”
I nod to the door. “Right now, I’m thinking you ought to lock the door.”
His hand darts out and flicks the lock.
I close the distance between us, park my palms on his strong chest, then walk him backward.
All the way to his desk chair. I push him down into the black leather. He looks like a king of the boardroom in his charcoal pants, white shirt, and maroon tie. He loosens the silk tie as he stares up at me with hooded eyes.
“Now what?” he asks, challenging me.
“Now, I’m going to show you that I remember everything you taught me.”
He groans, carnal and masculine and so damn sexy. Raising his chin confidently, he reaches for my face and runs the pad of his thumb across my top lip. In a dirty growl, he says, “Then get down on your knees like a good girl so I can fuck your mouth like a bad one.”
Heat flares through me, and I fall to my knees, quickly working open the zipper to his pants. His thick erection strains against the fabric, and that only makes me want him more. He helps me along, untucking his shirt as I release him from the confines of his boxer briefs.
His cock springs free, and I’m hungry and eager. I curl a fist around his hard length, and he hisses. “Fuck,” he grunts.
I haven’t even wrapped my lips around him, and he’s so turned on. So am I. I ache between my legs just thinking about what I’m about to do to him.
“First step,” I whisper, my lips hovering near the head of his dick. “Open wide.”
He smiles as he clamps his hands to the side of my head. “You remember.”
“I remember it all.” This man taught me how to give a blow job. Step by step, he showed me the basics. He instructed me on what he liked, and how to blow his mind. And I did it the way he liked it, over and over, because I loved making him feel good.
20
Tyler
* * *
She drops her lips to the head of my dick and licks. “Just a little flick at first,” she whispers, and I moan my gratitude.
Lust charges through me as she proceeds to show off all the skills I taught her. “Tease me, angel. Fucking tease me. Drive me crazy with that wicked tongue of yours.”
She flicks her tongue up and down my cock. That’s step two. Tongue action. Like she’s licking a candy cane. Like she’s savoring it top to bottom, stem to stern. She settles in closer, and I make room for her, opening my knees wider. Like I’ve got a good buzz going, my skin sizzles as she licks all over. Then she grabs the base of my shaft and squeezes.
I shudder.
Yeah, I love that move, too. But I especially love this. She wraps her lips around me and draws me into the warm, wet tunnel of her mouth. Sparks tear through me, and it’s like two wires connecting as she sucks and squeezes, sucks and squeezes.
“Yes, baby. Nice and wide. Like that,” I say, my hands clutching her skull as I guide her head up and down.
There is no better view on earth than this. Delaney’s hair is spread across my lap. Her red lips are stretched wide and filled with my cock. Her head bobs.
I’m not going to last long, and I don’t care. She’s working my dick over something fierce.
But I want more. Because more is how I like it. More is step three. “Can you take me all the way?” I ask as she swirls her tongue around the head, distracting me and making me grunt and groan.
She nods against my lap, and
I curl my hands around her throat. Not tight, just massaging, running my thumbs across her neck. “Open for me, baby. Deep.”
Her eyes twinkle as she glances up, like she’s full of naughtiness, full of surprises. I gently rub my hands over her delicate and fucking delicious throat. The next thing I know, she’s going down, down, down on my dick, and holy fuck. White-hot flames torch my body.
I’m. All. The. Way. In.
I want to close my eyes and fuck her mouth, but I want to watch every goddamn second. This woman is on her knees, and I’m balls-deep in her throat, and she’s sucking me like a champion. Like my champion. Like she wants my cock as much as I want her to be the one sucking it. And fuck, I do. I really fucking do, so much that tremors roll through my body. Shockwaves of pleasure rumble over my flesh as she goes to town.
My bones vibrate and desire builds inside me, flooding every corner of my body.
My fingers curl around her skull. My chest heats, and the back of my neck is in flames. I want to be consumed by this fire, feel it spread everywhere.
As she swirls her tongue around my dick, I utter a guttural yes.
Can barely speak.
Can hardly think.
I feel like I’m falling under, like I’m sliding into some alternate world of bliss and desire and pleasure. Her eyes are glossy, almost watering, but she doesn’t stop. She won’t stop, and maybe this sounds nuts, but God, I think I’m fucking in love with her for that alone.
Because she can’t be doing this just because she likes it. She can’t possibly crave my cock, no matter how magic she says it is, so much she’d nearly gag. She’s taking me all the way because she wants to blow my mind.
She wants this to be good for me, and, fuck, that’s what does it for me.
My dick is hitting the back of her throat, getting acquainted with the far corners of her mouth, and my sexy angel sucks like she’s never letting go.
I’m nearly there, but I still want one more thing. Somehow I manage words. They come out harsh and stuttered. “Baby, you know what I want.”
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