by Jami Alden
Just the way he said the word pleasure was enough to summon a rush of moist heat between her thighs. And when she opened her eyes to see the heat in his....
"Go ahead. Tell me everything you want me to do."
Wendy shook herself from the memory of exactly how well he'd followed her directions, willing herself to focus on the contract in front of her. The deal was about to fall through, and this was no time to be indulging in the scorching memory of how Drew had skimmed first his hands, then his mouth up the insides of her thighs. How, at her direction, he'd slipped off her panties, sucked and tongued at her clit while finger fucking her.
How he'd then stripped them both naked and stretched out on her couch, his cock jutting out like the empire state building, huge and rock hard, ready for her use as she sank down on him and rode him until they both came, crying out so loud she was surprised the neighbors didn't start pounding on the wall.
Oh, God, just the memory was enough to make her come, right here in her office chair. Her face was hot, and glancing down she saw her nipples standing out in hard points against the silky fabric of her blouse. And lower.... She shifted against the seat of her leather chair, giving a little cry as the movement sent a jolt of electricity between her legs.
She took a huge gulp of water from the bottle sitting on her desk. When that didn't do anything to cool her raging body, she shoved all thoughts of Drew from her head and visualized snow capped mountains, the arctic tundra, and icebergs floating in the North Sea.
It didn't help much, but at least she wasn't on the verge of orgasming right here in her office in the middle of the afternoon when she was supposed to be reviewing a term sheet for her upcoming meeting.
She wouldn't miss Drew, wouldn't miss any of that when he was gone.
Right, like you don't miss him right now? Wendy tried to ignore the evil little voice, but there was no denying the truth. Drew had been gone for two days now. He was in Boston, meeting with his new company's board and the existing executives. Going through all the last minute details before the big move.
Only two nights, and she was already climbing the walls, unable to think of anything but him, his hands on her, his mouth on her, his cock deep inside her. Her skin felt two sizes too small, tight and itchy, and inside her there was a yawning emptiness that the evil little voice inside her tried to convince her only he could fill.
Okay, fine, her body missed him. It made sense, she reasoned, that after such a long dry spell her body would quickly come to crave the amazing sex that Drew was giving her.
That was all it was, she inwardly insisted. Purely physical. She'd survived without sex for half year. She'd survive just fine without Drew. Better, in fact, because he wouldn't be around to distract her from work and keep her up late with the aforementioned awesome sex.
When the time came that her itch got too big to scratch herself, she'd find another suitable partner. Someone just as skilled as Drew who would satisfy her just as much if not more.
She kept that thought firmly in mind for the next several hours as she spent the afternoon in a series of meetings and on phone calls. And yet, when one of the senior partners praised her for bringing a deal back from the brink of collapse, she couldn't muster up more than a smile and a quiet thanks. Praise that a month ago would have had her over the moon and practically floating home now rang a little hollow as she plodded back to her office to dig in for several more hours.
Because even though it was past dinner time, there was no reason for her to go anywhere else. Even if it was Friday night and most of her friends were out partying like rock stars.
She gave herself a mental slap. Was she really going to do this? Get all mopey just because her fuck buddy was out of town for a couple of days.
With one eye on her email box full of unread messages she reached for her cell phone. Her friend Courtney answered on the third ring. Wendy couldn't help smiling at the surprised delight in her friend's greeting. And there was no mistaking the shock in Courtney's voice when Wendy asked where she should meet her. "No way! You're actually crawling out of your cave? Hold on, let me get my smelling salts."
Wendy rolled her eyes. "It's Friday night. It's not that big of a deal."
"I haven't seen you in over eight months. You wouldn't even let me take you out to drink away your sorrows after Alan dumped you."
Wendy could hear the genuine hurt in Courtney's voice and felt a pinch of guilt. "Work's been insane," she said lamely.
Courtney's snort echoed over the phone line. "It's always insane, which is why I got out of that sweatshop before it swallowed me up." She and Courtney had gotten to know each other right after Wendy got out of law school, when Wendy started at Chapman Cooper. Courtney was a second year associate and had taken Wendy under her wing. They'd immediately bonded over all nighters eating pizza in the conference room while they went through boxes of old cases.
Then, three years ago, Courtney had gotten fed up with the dog eat dog culture and the work schedule that ground lesser people into dust. "What about all of the groundwork you've laid here? If you leave now, that all goes away, and you'll never make partner if you try to come back," Wendy had said when Courtney had told her that she was taking a new job as in house counsel for a large software company.
Courtney had gotten a funny look on her face then, almost like she felt a little sorry for Wendy. "You and I both know we can work ourselves to death and there's no guarantee of making partner. That's it's just a carrot they dangle so they can treat us like slave labor."
"Slave labor pays pretty decent," Wendy had pointed out. "And even better once we make partner," she'd said, firm in her conviction and ambition to be one of the youngest associates ever to make partner at Chapman Cooper.
Courtney had shrugged. "That may be true, but I'm not going to give my life over to work for the foreseeable future when there's no guarantee I'm going to make it to the next level."
At the time, Wendy had secretly thought Courtney was making a mistake, basically scrapping all of the hard work she'd already done. Now as she listened to the background music and chatter over the phone, thought of all of the pictures Courtney had posted on her Facebook page of all the places she'd traveled and parties she'd been to in the past few years, she acknowledged that maybe Courtney was on to something.
She smacked the thought down almost as it formed. "Even us salt-miners are entitled to a little fun sometimes," Wendy said as she shut down her computer. "I'll meet you in half an hour. Just tell me where to be."
After a stop at her place to change into something less Law and Order and more Sex and the City, Wendy spotted Courtney at the end of the crowded bar of a new hot spot Wendy hadn't even heard of. Located just a few blocks from San Francisco's Tenderloin district the bar was one of many capitalizing on the popularity of shows like Mad Men. A huge cocktail menu over the bar showcased old school drinks like manhattans and whiskey sours. Wendy ordered herself a glass of cabernet, which got her a disdainful sniff from both the bartender and the hipster next to her, and made her way over to Courtney.
Courtney quickly introduced her to the two women she was with, friends she'd met doing morning boot camp at Crissy Field, and the two guys who had been snared in the orbit of the three attractive, apparently available women.
"This is Greg," Courtney said, indicating the blond guy who was above average height, dressed in jeans and a black shirt. Wendy smiled and gave him her hand to shake, but it was clear he was all about Courtney and the feeling was mutual.
"And this is.. Kyle, right?" Courtney said. Wendy smiled at Kyle, who was nodding. He was taller than his friend, and broader too. With his thick sweep of dark hair, strong chin, and dark eyes that glinted with humor and unmistakable interest as they scanned Wendy from head to toe, he should have sparked something in Wendy. She shook his hand and smiled back and willed something... any spark of attraction to make itself known.
Instead, as she made small talk and sipped her wine, she found herself think
ing of Drew and listing all they ways this perfectly good looking, funny, friendly guy suffered terribly in comparison. First, there was his face. Perfectly sculpted, so good looking he was almost pretty.
Immediately Drew's harshly drawn, rugged features flashed in her mind. Nothing pretty about that.
Then there was Kyle's body. He mentioned competing in a triathlon, and from what she could see through his clothes it had given his tall frame a lean, honed look. But Wendy felt herself craving a body that had a few more pounds of muscle packed on. The kind of tall, broad body that spoke of barely restrained power, the kind of strength that made her feel at once vulnerable and feminine in a way she'd never felt before.
And finally, there were his hands. Nicely shaped, but slender. And when he shook her hand, she noticed his palm was totally smooth.
Nothing like Drew's big palm and long fingers that practically swallowed hers up when he took it. Lightly callused, making her shiver at the slight roughness as they skimmed over her skin.
So when perfectly nice, perfectly good looking Kyle asked for her number before he and Greg left to go to a friend's birthday party, she found herself saying, "I'm seeing someone," into his disappointed face.
Courtney, who was in the process of calling Greg's phone so he'd have her number, whipped her head around. "Wait, when did this happen?"
Wendy waited until the guys had left before answering. "It's nothing," she said, waving her hand and sipping at her wine. "I just said it so I wouldn't hurt his feelings telling him I'm not interested."
Courtney's friends, clearly on the prowl, moved across the bar to chat up a couple of guys and left Wendy and Courtney to catch up.
"First," Courtney said, holding up one perfectly manicured finger, "the Wendy I know has no qualms about a simple, to the point, 'no thanks' when a guy asks if he can call her. Two," she said, holding up another finger, "you just turned down a guy who could have walked off the pages of a J. Crew catalog. Now I know you sometimes go for the ones who are a little rougher around the edges, but in a city where the odds of a guy who looks like that being straight area a hundred to one? You're too smart to not at least give it a whirl even if he doesn't make your toes curl on the first meet. Three, your eye is doing that weird thing it does when you lie."
Wendy's hand automatically went up to her right eye, and sure enough she could feel the lashes at the corner twitching. Dammit, Courtney was the only other person besides Julie - and now Drew - who had ever picked up on her stupid tell. "Right, I was lying to Kyle." Her eye twitched harder.
Courtney took a long sip of her martini, her gaze narrowing in on Wendy's face. "Look me in the eye and tell me you haven't gotten laid in the past week."
"I haven't gotten laid in the past week." Even as she said it, her eye started twitching so hard she could barely see. The table they'd been circling finally cleared, and their group eagerly swooped in. "Fine," Wendy said as she settled onto her stool. "I've been seeing someone for a couple weeks, but it's not a big deal."
"Of course it's a big deal!" Courtney said. "This is your seal breaker, the first guy you've slept with since Alan." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Isn't it?"
Wendy nodded. "But really, there's nothing to tell." Twitch. Twitch.
"Who is he?"
"No one you know." At least, as far as she knew.
"Is he hot?"
"Very." Wendy said, hiding a grin behind another sip of her wine.
"Is he good?"
"God yes," Wendy couldn't stop herself from saying.
Courtney's eyebrows shot for her hairline. "He must be to get that kind of enthusiasm from you."
"It's been a long time since Alan," Wendy pointed out. Twitch.
Courtney gave her a dubious look. "Even the longest dry spell in history has never stopped you from doing a complete breakdown of a guy's technique."
Wendy grimaced, knowing her friend was right. In the past, she'd always had an ongoing pros and cons list in her head for every aspect of her relationship with a guy. But she hadn't made one with Drew.
That's because you two don't have a relationship, she reminded herself.
Or maybe it's because you're hard pressed to find anything to complain about. Other than the fact that he's been gone for two days and will soon be gone forever.
Wendy drained her wine glass and signaled a server for a refill as she acknowledged the truth of it. Her hackles may have been raised when Drew barged back into her life and started bossing her around, but she couldn't deny that she'd enjoyed every second they'd spent together in the past week and a half. In and out of bed.
"I don't have much to complain about, but really, it's not serious."
"Maybe you should let it be," Courtney said.
Wendy shook her head as the waitress came by with another glass of wine. "I can't do serious right now. You know that."
Courtney rolled her eyes. "You know, there's this thing in life called work life balance. You really should look into it."
Wendy let out a little laugh. "I'll try it in about a year, once I've made partner and my place at the firm is secure."
Courtney rolled her eyes and drained her own drink. "By then it might be too late. What if this guy's the one."
"He's not," Wendy said, too sharply. "I mean, he can't be," she said more softly. She took a sip of her wine and studied the red depths for a moment. "Even if I wanted him to be," she said slowly, and even acknowledging the possibility gave her a strange, almost vertigo like sensation, "it can't happen. He's moving to Boston before the end of the month to start a new job."
"That sucks," Courtney said, reaching out to give her hand a sympathetic squeeze. "Maybe you two can rack up frequent flyer miles."
Wendy shook her head again, shocked to feel the burn of tears which she quickly blinked away. She was so not going to cry over Drew, not now, not ever! "Yeah, but it's just a fling. That's all either of us wants right now anyway."
Courtney gave her a long, measured stare. "I don't believe you. And neither does your twitchy eye."
Wendy forced a laugh. "They eye has been known to be wrong." But even as she spent the next few hours laughing, chatting and sipping wine in the company of her close friend, she couldn't get rid of the tight, achy feeling in her chest that got stronger when it was time to call it a night.
And go home to her empty bed.
Later as she sat alone on her couch, she was forced to face the truth. She missed Drew. Even though she'd tried so hard to keep him on the periphery, even though she'd done everything she could to establish boundaries—only seeing him after a long day at work, never letting him spend the night, limiting the time they spent together out of bed—he'd somehow managed to work his way into her life. Into her thoughts.
Into her heart.
She sprang to her feet an forced the sappy thought from her head. She was a grown woman with a high-powered career, not some moony teenager with nothing better to do than spend hours obsessing over some guy. Sure, she'd gotten used to him being around, and was surprised to discover that he was actually great company, but once he was gone, her life would go back to it's normal, sexless, state, and it would be out of sight, out of mind.
It had to.
Chapter 12
Drew checked the clock on his computer, grimacing when he saw only two minutes had elapsed since the last time he'd looked. Six-o three-on Tuesday night. Nearly three hours to kill before he could go to Wendy's place. Where he'd been dying to go since he'd woken up nearly twelve hours earlier. Well, to put finer point on it, he would have preferred to not leave last night in the first place, but as always she'd given him about a fifteen minute recovery period after his orgasm and then kicked him the hell out.
This whole no sleepover thing was getting really fucking old.
You won't have to put up with it for much longer, he reminded himself. The thought did nothing to improve his already foul temper.
The phone on his desk buzzed. "What?" he snapped.
"I see you're still wearing your grumpy pants," said a sharp feminine voice.
Drew grimaced as he recognized the voice of Kathy Brown, the executive admin for Jim Porter, Paradigm's founder and managing partner. She ran Porter's life with military like precision, and normally Drew enjoyed dealing with her, but grumpy pants? Please. "Sorry Kathy. I've had a lot on my mind lately."
She made a little tsking sound. "You've got a lot on your plate, taking over the CEO position at Silverlight, moving cross country. I can understand why you'd be a little moody."
Moody didn't even begin to cover it. Ever since he'd gotten back from Boston, oh hell, from the second he'd gotten on the plane in San Francisco, he'd been pissed off.
And though he was loath to admit it, it was because of a certain attorney with mile long legs and a mouth that drove him to the edge of insanity every time it curved in that secretive little smile.
Or to put a finer point on it, because he only had a limited time to spend with Wendy, and the trip to Boston had meant four nights away from her. He felt their time running out with the speed of a bullet train, and the trip had cost him four more nights.
Nights which, he was forced to admit in the long dark hours spent alone in his hotel room, were becoming more precious than he ever could have imagined. Idiot that he was, he'd convinced himself that by the time he left for good, he would have worked her out of his system.
Instead, he'd realized, too late, that it was exactly the opposite. Instead of sating him, every second he spent with Wendy made him crave more. Like an addict who needs more and more of a drug to get a high, he found that the more time he spent with Wendy, the more he wanted her.
And four days without a fix had resulted in some serious withdrawals. So severe he'd experienced something for the first time ever: doubt.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't sure he was making the right move. In the past, whenever he'd moved, he'd felt only anticipation. Looked forward to the next adventure. Never felt the tug of something—or someone—he was leaving behind.