“I think you’ve forgotten that I’ve already seen all of you.” His voice is soft and caring as he rests my arms on his shoulders and pulls me into a hug, our naked bodies pressed against each other. Every rigid muscle of his meets my soft form and I melt into him.
His lips find my neck, and instinctively, my head falls back. I release a moan and can feel his lips pull into a smile against my neck, while at the same time, his dick hardens between us. That alone makes my knees weak. The control he has over my body frightens me. No one has ever been able to get me with a single touch.
“You’re not leaving,” he murmurs, trailing kisses from my neck up to my lips. He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and sucks on it gently before I break our kiss.
“I have to go.”
“Not gonna happen.” His hands move deftly from my sides all the way up to palm both of my breasts. He rolls my hardened nipples between his fingers before he pinches them and I yelp in surprise.
“I need to go home,” I say shakily, trying to pull out of his embrace, but he spins me around and backs me to the bed. His eyes catch mine and all I see are need and want, and he damn well sees that in mine as well. His lips pull into a devilish grin and he knows he’s won.
As he shakes his head, we tumble to the bed when the back of my knees hit the edge of the mattress and he has me pinned beneath him—exactly where he wants me. Drew lies between my open legs and he smirks, knowing he’s got me again. He props himself up on his elbows, and his cock nudges at my wet entrance. I bite on my bottom lip as he edges himself in.
“Feel that,” he whispers, his eyes holding mine. I nod and bite my bottom lip, doing my best to not show how much he affects me. “That’s how you’re going to wake up tomorrow morning, Gracie. With me buried inside you. We can’t do that when you’re at your apartment and I’m here.”
I wiggle underneath him and he slips further into me. “Ahhh!” I gasp when he hits that spot inside me. He knows exactly where to find it and he uses it against me. I’m weak to him.
“Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” He rolls his hips and I literally lie like a wet noodle underneath him—limp and soft, soaking in the pleasure he brings me.
He laces his fingers from both of his hands through mine and places them on either side of my head. This time, our lovemaking is slow, careful, and passionate. He watches me intently, his blue eyes holding mine, telling me that this is so much more than just casual sex, as his moves become more rhythmic.
His long, slow strokes ignite something deep inside me. “Drew.” I manage his name on a hiss. “I’m going to come already.” Since his first touch last night, my entire body has been on the cusp of a constant orgasm. He leaves me heated, on edge, and needy… for him.
His thrusts slow until he stops, still rooted deep inside me. “You’re not leaving tonight,” he tells me. His tone leaves no room for negotiation. “We have plans tomorrow—” he starts before I interrupt him.
“What if I already have plans?” I argue breathily.
“Cancel them.” He’s so direct and matter-of-fact.
“I don’t have clothes,” I point out. “Or my pills.”
His eyes widen at that revelation. “We’ll get them tomorrow.”
He rolls his hips and continues his slow assault, his pelvic bone rubbing against my clit perfectly, every movement one step closer to ecstasy. Every nerve in my body is on high alert when I finally fall, my entire body trembling beneath him.
“There you go, baby,” he whispers and releases my hands. As I fall apart, Drew takes his time…long, rhythmic strokes bringing him to the edge until he joins me in my fall. We both gasp for breath, but before I have time to fall back asleep, Drew is pulling me from the bed. “Come here.” He guides me toward the bathroom, where he turns on the light. The bathroom is lavish and huge, almost as big as my entire apartment. There is a giant soaking tub in one corner and a shower that takes up an entire wall. Everything is white and grey marble and over-the-top exquisite.
Drew turns on the spigot of the tub and runs his hand through the water before plugging the drain. “Get in.” He pulls me toward the tub. It’s so large, four grown adults could bathe at the same time. “Just relax. Don’t talk, don’t overthink.”
I quickly twist my long hair up into a bun on top of my head while Drew squirts bubble bath from a bottle into the hot water. I step into the deep tub carefully while he holds my hand since my shaky legs still have me feeling unsteady.
Once I’m in the tub, he sets two large bath towels on the counter and slides into the tub behind me. We’re quiet as the rumbling water rises around us. My muscles finally relax once the hot water reaches my chest.
Drew pulls me back against him and I’m able to stretch my long legs completely. Amazing. I normally can’t stretch out in a standard tub, I’m too tall. I use my foot to turn the knob and shut off the water, then I sink further down, my head resting back against Drew’s shoulder. His arms wrap around my waist and his fingers draw slow circles on my stomach.
We soak in silence, the hot water relaxing our bodies until our fingers prune and the water begins to cool. Drew massages my neck and shoulders, and I’m so relaxed, I could fall asleep right here in the water.
“Let’s get you to bed,” he whispers in my ear and guides us up and out of the water. Drew dries me carefully, not missing a spot before wrapping my body in the oversized bath towel. I’ve never had anyone take care of me before and it’s nice.
“My toothbrush is in that bag if you’d like to use it again.” He points to the leather toiletry bag sitting on the counter.
I blush in embarrassment. “How did you know?”
“You left the lid off the toothpaste,” he says with a smirk. Pulling his toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste from his bag, he hands them to me. “Maybe it’s anal, but I have a system. Everything has its place. Lids always go back on. Everything is organized—”
I snort. “I’m not like that at all.” Which is ironic, because being in control is my M.O., except for my bathroom. It’s a disaster of epic proportions.
“Obviously. It was a dead giveaway when I went into the bathroom this morning. Towel on the floor, toothpaste open, toothbrush sitting in a puddle of water.” He laughs as he describes what a mess I am. It’s the first time I notice he has a dimple. I don’t know why, but I reach out and press my finger to that small curve in his cheek.
He stills. The move is simple, but intimate.
“You have a dimple,” I say softly. “I like it.”
He snakes an arm around my waist and pulls me to him. His gaze holds mine. “And I like you.”
My heart stammers in my chest and he presses his soft lips to mine. His kiss is soft and sweet and my body sinks into his.
“As much as I want to make love to you again, Gracie, we need to rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”
Drew removes our towels and walks us to the king-size bed. I ease into the center, my bare skin sliding against the silk sheets. Drew slides in behind me and pulls me to him, caging me in his arms, where I close my eyes and easily fall asleep.
Seven
As much as I want to wake Gracie up and fuck her senseless this morning, I let her rest. It’s early, still dark outside, and she’s curled into herself, her face so serene and peaceful. I spend a moment listening to the soft sounds of her breathing that tell me she’s sound asleep. I slip out of the bedroom and work from the living room answering emails, texting my realtor, and ordering us breakfast.
I recently reached out to a realtor to assist me in finding a small apartment, but now I’ve asked her to find me something a little bigger. Hopefully, the last-minute change of plans won’t trip up today’s real estate viewing.
Just as breakfast arrives and our room service attendant is setting up our food on the dining room table, Gracie appears all wrapped in a plush robe.
“Smells good,” she says, her voice husky with sleep.
Gracie slides onto my lap and wraps her arms
around my neck. I bury my face in the crook of hers and drink in the sweet smell of her warm skin. She’s beautiful in the morning. Her face is make-up free and her long wavy hair is all twisted into a high bun on top of her head. Her simple beauty is what’s most attractive about her.
“You smell good,” I whisper and I see her visibly shiver. I love the way I affect her. My touch. My words. Her body reacts to both. I run my hand under her robe and caress her bare thigh. My fingers trail higher to the apex of her thighs, where I stop before I get to the place I love to touch. I want nothing more than to eat her for breakfast, right here on this dining room table, but we have a big day ahead of us and I need her to eat and get ready.
The room service attendant quietly leaves and Grace pushes herself up and meanders over to the table.
“You could feed an army with all this food,” she says, her eyes scanning the elaborate display of eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit, toast, muffins, coffee, and juices.
“I didn’t know what you liked,” I remark, and join her at the table.
“Everything,” she says with a small smile. She’s not afraid to eat, another thing I find attractive about her. She slides into one of the chairs and reaches for a plate.
“What can I get you?” she asks me as I take the seat next to her. She wants to serve me my food and I let her.
“Some eggs, bacon, and fruit, please.”
She plates up my breakfast and sets it in front of me before helping herself. You’d never know by how comfortable we are that we’ve known each other for less than forty-eight hours. I feel like I’ve known her a lifetime.
“What are we doing today?” she asks, biting into a bright red strawberry. She reaches for the cream and pours it into her coffee, turning the black liquid to a milky light brown.
“Shopping,” I say, sipping some orange juice.
“Shopping? You like shopping?” Her eyes widen in surprise.
“The kind of shopping we’re doing doesn’t involve stores or malls,” I remark, and she sits back in her chair, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. “You’ll see.”
We finish our breakfast and I hand her a shopping bag. “I asked the concierge to get you an outfit until we can get to your apartment. I’m sorry if it’s not your style, but I didn’t think you wanted to wear my shirt again, or that skirt you’ve worn for the past two days.”
She pulls the tissue out of the bag and I see that they sent up a pair of black yoga pants, a tank top, and jacket. Also in the bag are a pair of new tennis shoes and socks.
Her eyes widen when she sees the logo from that popular fitness store that women seem to rave about. “Thank you,” she says, shoving everything back in the bag. I can’t tell if she’s appreciative or embarrassed that I purchased clothing for her, but her face softens as the bag of clothes dangles in her hand, so I’ll take it as appreciative.
“Go get dressed. We’ll go to your apartment so you can grab anything else you need.” I rush her along.
She nods and slips back into the bedroom while I shut down my laptop and join her. By the time I get there, she’s dressed and in the bathroom brushing her teeth with my toothbrush again. If this were anybody else, I’d have thrown that toothbrush away, but with Gracie, I could oddly care less.
She runs her fingers through her long hair and reties it up on top of her head as I slip into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved polo shirt. I join her in the bathroom, take the toothbrush that is once again sitting in a puddle on the counter, and brush my teeth, before running some water through my short, dark hair.
“Ready?” I ask as I arrange the toiletries on the counter that Gracie has left a mess.
“Ready,” she responds, sliding her hands into the pockets of her tight-fitting athletic jacket. The form-fitting fabric of her pants and jacket hug every luscious curve on her body and I can’t help but get turned on. Her breasts and curvy hips are on full display and the way her ass sways when she walks damn near gives me an erection. She needs to change before we look at homes; no one else is allowed to ogle that body…just me.
We exit the hotel to the waiting Town Car, and Tony eases into Saturday morning Manhattan traffic. I reach over and pull Gracie’s hand into mine as we make our way through New York City and into Brooklyn. I visibly shudder when we pull up in front of the old pre-war brick apartment building in Red Hook. I glance out the window and up and down the street that’s questionable at best. Is this where she lives? I know what we pay Gracie, and while she wouldn’t be living on the Upper West Side with her salary, she has to be able to afford better than this. I make a mental note to review her salary again.
She can see the disapproval written across my face. I’m horrible at masking my emotions, which is why I’d make a shitty poker player. She opens her door and slides out and I follow closely behind her. “Give us a few minutes,” I tell Tony and follow Gracie.
She pulls keys from her purse and I get a better look at the area. There’s a bodega at the end of the street where people are loitering. The surrounding buildings are in rough condition, and there is an abundance of dollar stores, hole-in-the-wall restaurants, and check-cashing places in every direction. A typical lower income area in New York City. I assumed she was living somewhere that was more revitalized, because that’s what I would do. But I’m quickly learning that Gracie isn’t me. She’s her own person, with her own ideas and her own plans. While she frustrates me, it’s something I appreciate about her nonetheless.
She fights with the lock on the door to enter the building. With a swift kick and a hard turn of her key, the main door swings open and we step inside. Cool, musty air fills my nostrils as we take the three flights of stairs to her apartment.
Gracie fumbles with her keys again, finally sliding the right one into the deadbolt of the shabby wood door. The white paint is chipping off the door and trim, and the numbers three-zero-one that once appeared to be black are now a faded grey. Her apartment door creaks open and we step into what has to be the smallest kitchen I’ve ever seen. Nothing more than a tiny fridge, a miniscule counter, and a miniature stove fill the small, outdated space. The apartment is old and dingy, but clean. Everything is dated, from the kitchen cabinets, the countertops, all the way to the old, scratched parquet wood flooring.
Gracie has a small but quaint kitchen table and two chairs that sit up against the only wall in the kitchen. Straight ahead is a nonexistent transition to the living room where a loveseat sits with a grey slipcover on it. A large, colorful throw rug rests under the loveseat and on each side are mismatched end tables with large ferns on them. Finally, there are two bookshelves that flank another wall, completing the entire living space.
“Make yourself at home,” Gracie says self-consciously, tossing her purse onto the kitchen table that doubles as a catchall. She moves through the small space and into what I presume is her bedroom directly off the living room. I follow her. There’s no door, just a framed opening.
The tiny room holds what looks like a full-sized bed and a small dresser. That’s it. There is a tiny closet with a single door and a window off center on her bedroom wall. Everything about this apartment is small and awkward. But it’s Gracie’s, and because of that, even though we just met, I love it. It’s different. Like her. I don’t know what it is about her, or me, but this woman has me feeling like I’ve never felt before. An immediate connection, a sense of possessiveness, and a longing to protect her.
“Do you have a garment bag, or…” I gesture toward the too-small closet, hoping she has some type of bag she can put some clothes in.
“A garment bag?” she asks, her face twisting in confusion.
“You know, a bag that carries clothes.” My tone is dripping with sarcasm and I can’t help but smirk when I see her eyes widen in realization of what I want her to do. Pack an overnight bag.
“Oh, no. I’m not staying with you again tonight.” She shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest, highlighting those perfect breasts of hers.
&n
bsp; I tilt my head and watch her argue. She’s cute when she tries to be assertive. “Yes, you are. I don’t know how long we’ll be out today and we’ll be on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. It just makes sense that you stay with me tonight instead of coming all the way back here.”
She continues to shake her head, ignoring everything I’m telling her. She’s defiant and tells me no and, while it drives me insane, I also love it about her. I’m used to everyone doing what I tell them to, when I tell them to, so I appreciate the challenge Gracie provides. It’s become fun to watch her try to stand her ground. She shakes her head defiantly, her eyes wild. “I thought we were coming back here so I could change clothes for today and take my pills. I didn’t agree to spend the entire weekend with you, Drew.”
Ignoring her protests, I march over to her closet and open the small door. A large black shoulder bag hangs on a hook she’s attached over the door. I grab it and hand it to her. “Get changed. Put what you’ll need for the next two days in here. We’ve got to be back in Manhattan in forty-five minutes for an appointment.”
She doesn’t argue this time; instead, she sighs. Loudly. I can’t help but smile knowing I’ve won, again, and she rolls her eyes at me. I sit on the edge of her bed, scrolling through the real estate listings my agent provided while she scurries around, shoving things in the bag.
“What are we doing today?” she asks, not turning around to look at me. Instead, she thumbs through the hangers in her closet, assessing each clothing article as she passes by them.
“Wear something comfortable,” I tell her, not looking up from my phone.
“I’m in something comfortable,” she mumbles under her breath. I fucking love her snark. I’ve never met a girl that’s sassy, sweet, and snarky all rolled into one person, and she’s beautiful to boot.
“Just pack what you think you’ll need for the next two days,” I tell her again. Honestly, she won’t be needing clothes other than today when we’re looking at condos. I plan to spend the rest of the weekend in bed, devouring her. No clothes needed for that.
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