I closed my eyes, “I told her that it was amazing.”
“Oh really now?” He started taking off his clothes.
“Sebastian! What are you doing?”
“More research.”
That made me chuckle. I noticed that he was already fully erect. The sight made me happy. I liked that he wanted me again in the reality of the morning light. He stepped inside the shower with me and reached down for the soap. Then he started rubbing the soap all over my body, over my breasts, in between my legs. He turned me around so that I was flat against the wall and he washed my back, my buttocks, down my legs. He came forward and started kissing my neck, his fingers reaching inside me. The water was crashing down on us and yet we remained wet in other ways.
I kissed him on the mouth slowly. I pulled back a little. His lips met mine again, slowing even more. I leaned against him as he slid down to his knees, my hands behind his head, twisting in his hair. I gasped. He loved it, kissing hard, trailing back up to my shoulder, my neck, my mouth. His hands curled around my thighs, then trailed up my back just as slowly as the kisses had trailed to my mouth. I could feel goose bumps raise up on my arms despite the warm water. A chill was sent through my back. He smiled under my kiss and traced his fingers to my breasts, gently grabbing them.
Everything felt so sensitive. My heart was beating out of my chest. I wondered if he could feel it beneath his hand, tapping out a message in Morse code. He was still smiling. His fingers squeezed gently, making me make more noise.
He bit my lip gently. His tongue dipped into my mouth then out, licked my lips. He kissed my neck. He kissed my shoulder. Then moved his mouth down, making a trail of kissing to my chest, sending a jolt to my head each kiss he gave. My hips twisted. He let out a small breath. He was hot too. I pulled back, kissing him on the mouth.
Then he turned me around and pinned me against the wall. I reached over for his penis and gently guided it inside of me. He thrust himself against me over and over again while I held onto him for support.
He squeezed my breasts Then he reached for the soap again, which had fallen once more to the ground and we washed each other clean, stopping every now and again to kiss each other. It was both incredibly erotic and incredibly sweet.
“Now,” he said, getting up out of the bed, “I’ll go get changed. Come join me in the kitchen when you’re all done. I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”
I got changed back into my same clothes from the day before and suddenly noticed the big clock on the wall. It was as if I had been living in a dream all along and the facts of where I was and when it was suddenly came hurling down on me at once. I gasped.
“Oh no! I totally forgot. It’s Monday. And I’m already going to be late for work. I still need to go home and change. Although judging by the time I might have to go down in this. I don’t think I have enough time to get home and back. Crap! Maybe Danielle can bring me some new clothes later. Oh but how will I explain that to everyone? One minute I’m wearing this and the next minute I’ve changed. They’ll think I’ve lost my mind. I better go.”
Sebastian was just standing and grinning at me. “Why are you looking at me like that? Didn’t you hear me? It’s Monday! I have to go.”
“Yeah. So? Have you forgotten that I’m your boss? And I’m telling you – the boss will not be happy if you leave so early.”
“But Sebastian, I really do have to go to work. I’m still quite new there. I can’t just pitch up late. I’m not going to win any popularity contests by doing this.”
“Don’t worry, I have it all under control. I’ll tell them that you had a meeting with me this morning. They don’t need to know that the meeting was in my apartment. We actually did some very heavy research so it’s not like you’ll be lying. And really Jane, now that I’ve seen you in action, I must say… I think the company is in very good hands with you around. Now, you sit down. I know you get grumpy if you don’t get a decent cup of coffee and something to eat in the morning.”
I frowned at him. “Really? I’ll have you know I can go without food and coffee the whole day and still be an absolute pleasure to be around.”
“Really?” He arched his eyebrows.
“No. Not really.”
He laughed. “Well come on then, join me. Anyway, I already messaged Alison to let her know that we were in a meeting and that you’d be in a bit later today. I told her to let the team know. I made it sound as if I made you do it so that they would feel sorry for you. I also took the liberty of sending Abbie a message from your phone to say that you were going to be late and how annoyed you were at me for making you go to a meeting so early.”
I simply stared at him. “You did what?” I checked my phone. There was already a reply from Abbie.
You poor thing. I hope it’s quick. He does things like that sometimes. Likes to show his authority. But don’t worry. It’s only because you’re new. See you a bit later.
“Now, you can just relax and enjoy some breakfast with me.”
“You know, I’d like to be angry at that but I’m truly too hungry to think of anything other than food.”
I sat down and watched in amazement as Sebastian fried bacon, eggs and sausages. “I honestly didn’t peg you for the cooking type.” I admitted to him and smiled with pleasure as the smell of bacon drifted into the air.
“Ah yes, but there’s a lot you don’t know about me Miss Greiner.”
“So it seems. You know what?” I put my hands in the air as a gesture of confusion, “you confuse the hell out of me. I actually don’t think I know who you are. One minute I think I’ve got it and the next I don’t.”
He turned around and looked at me, a strange smile playing on his face. “It’s funny you say that – because that is exactly what I think about you.”
I still didn’t really know what he thought about me but I didn’t want to ask him again. “That smells so good Sebastian. And thanks for the coffee – it’s incredible.”
“It’s the same machine that we have in the bar. Just one button and you get a perfect cup.”
“Ah… the same machine that gave me the coffee that I spilled all over you. That seems like a lifetime ago.” I would never in a million years have thought that only a little while later I would be having breakfast with that very same man.
“You were so cute then. All embarrassed.”
“I was embarrassed. That was seriously one of the worst moments of my life.” I admitted.
“Ah, come on, it wasn’t that bad,” he said.
“Trust me. It was.”
“Well, it’s all forgotten now. And here we are milady, here is your breakfast. Please enjoy it.” He presented it to me with a flourish and placed it in front of me. I took a bite and grinned back at him.
“Man, this is good.”
“Unfortunately Miss Greiner, I have to inform you that this breakfast does come with a price.”
I looked up at him. “A price?”
“Yes, you see, these things do not come free. Unfortunately, I will need a little something from you once you are done. A tip, if you will.”
“A tip? And what exactly do you mean by that?” Oh how easy it was to flirt with him.
“Oh, you can decide on the specifics. The location is my bed. That is non-disputable.”
“Sebastian! I can’t! What about work?”
“Nonsense Miss Greiner. Research, remember. Research!”
I grinned. I knew that there was no way I could refuse him.
What had I gotten myself into?
Out of Bounds (Second Chance Book 1)
5th Grade: Friends
7th Grade: Best Friends
11th Grade: Lovers
12th Grade: Long distance lovers
First Semester of College: Complicated
Two weeks before we were going to start Columbia University together, Tristan dumped me and broke my heart. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me from attending my dream school. There’re more than 30,0
00 students on campus. What were the chances that I’d see him again?
Or so I’d thought. And then I discovered that Tristan was going to be my roommate!
It’s as if the whole universe conspired for us to fall in love again.
**WARNING: Steamy scenes and mature situations
1
I walk into my dorm room for the first time and take a deep breath. This is the beginning of something new. Something special. All through high school, I felt like college was going to be some sort of epilogue in the chapters of my life. It was everything I worked for, everything I tried so hard to achieve. While everyone else was hanging out and drinking and going to parties, I kept my nose in my books. But when this day finally arrived, it no longer felt like an epilogue. No, this is a prologue. The beginning of something special.
“What a large room!” my mom exclaims, looking around my new home. The room is quite spacious. However, it’s not quite like the walls college students have on television and in movies. The ceiling is pretty high, but the walls are made of painted cinderblocks. White. Barren. So unlike the cozy, light pink room that I have back home.
I walk over to the window. It’s a beautiful late August day. I’m on the 16th floor, and from here I can see into other people’s apartments across the street.
“I just can’t believe that I’m here.” I turn around with a puddle of tears stacking up on the bottom of my eyelids. “In New York.”
“Oh, sweetie.” My mom puts her arms around me. She knows this has been my dream since I was in middle school. Mom gives me a quick hug and looks out of the window with me.
“I just don’t know how people live here. It’s so crammed!”
I smile. My mom is not a fan of New York. I grew up in Calabasas, a town just north of Los Angeles, where the sky is almost always cloudless and blue and the temperature never gets cooler than 70 degrees Fahrenheit. My family’s upper middle class, but not what’s considered rich. At least not by LA standards. Still, our family of five lived comfortably in a 3,000 square foot house with a 6,000 square foot yard with a pool.
“I hope you have nice roommates,” Mom says.
“Of course, she will,” Dad pipes in. He’s standing in the doorway, clearly not impressed. “I just can’t believe that this room costs $17,000 a year! And you have three other roommates.”
Mom and I laugh it off. Even though my dad isn’t cheap, he always likes to complain about how much things cost.
“Suite mates,” I correct him. “I have one roommate and three suite mates.” Our rooms are separated by a living room with a little kitchen and there’s only one bathroom for everyone to share.
“The room would be just as big if I’d gone to USC and the school would’ve costs just as much,” I add. University of Southern California is both of my parents’ alma mater. That’s where they met, thirty years ago.
“Yeah, at least you would’ve been closer to home and wouldn’t need a plane ticket to come see us.” He shrugs. I roll my eyes. We’ve been over this thousands of times before. Now, they joke about it more than anything else. They both know that Columbia has been my dream school for as long as I could remember. And when I got my acceptance packet, I think pretty much everyone knew that that’s where I was headed.
“I’d just like to see you when it gets into the 20s and 30s here and you have class at 8 am,” Mom says. “It’s not always this nice out, from what I hear.”
“I was fine in Colorado,” I say. Except that I’m terrified of the cold. I can’t wait for the changing leaves and the beautiful crisp fall, but the long hard winter? I don’t know.
Both of my parents laugh. “A few week-long skiing trips hardly qualify as experience. Besides, Winter Park is a small, sunny town. A six-month winter in New York where everything gets slushy and the snow is black from the cars and the pollution is something else entirely,” Mom says.
I nod.
“I think I’ll manage,” I say, putting on a brave face. I turn away from the window to change the topic.
“So which bed do you think I should choose?” The room has two of everything. Two beds. Two standing wardrobes. Two desks. Two chairs. Two windows. One looking out on 116th Street. One looking out onto Broadway.
“If you take this one onto 116th Street, it should be a little quieter,” Mom says just as an ambulance turns on its siren and rushes down the street. “Or maybe not.”
I decide on that one anyway.
“If you two are done staring at the blank room, I think it’s about time to go back downstairs and get more of your stuff, young lady,” Dad says, glued to his cell phone.
My mom and dad are both doctors, but they recently started a clinical trials consulting firm, which has made them busier than they’ve ever been when they were in practice.
“I’ll be right down,” I say. “I’m just going to put some of these things away.”
Right after Mom and Dad leave, the door swings open and a tall, voluptuous brunette walks in.
“Alice?” she asks. Her whole face lights up, putting me at ease.
“Doreen?” I ask.
“Oh, no, no, no.” She shakes her head. I extend my hand, but she pulls me into a warm hug instead. “Call me Juliet, please. I hate Doreen.”
“Okay.” I nod. Coming from LA, I’m well familiar with name changes. Three girls at my school changed their names officially before they got their boob jobs before graduation.
“Oh my god, you’re so cute!” she laughs. “And little. You’re from LA, right? You have to tell me your secret. Agh, why am I still holding this?”
She drops her bags onto her bed, and leans the long mirror she’s carrying against the wall. “I thought we’d hang this on the door.”
Aha! I finally realize it. That’s what’s weird about this room: there are no mirrors.
“Great idea. I completely forgot to bring a lengthwise mirror,” I say. “Actually, I thought there would be one here.”
At home, I have three in my room. I help Juliet hang the mirror on the back of our door and try to see if it still closes. It swings along with the door, but we’re just going to be careful.
“So?” Juliet turns to me. “What’s your secret?”
“Secret?”
“In staying so small. I know you LA girls have your ways.”
I smile. I look at myself in the mirror. Skinny jeans, size 1, flip flops, white t-shirt. No bra. 32A breasts. Long scraggly blonde hair. Hardly any makeup. Next to Juliet, I look like a child. She tosses her dark curls over her head to give them more volume and reapplies her bright red lipstick. She’s wearing fake lashes and every part of her face is contoured, giving her beautiful highlights across the forehead and bringing out her cheekbones.
“No secret, really.” I shrug. I’ve had plenty of my own issues with weight.
“Agh, if you say eat healthy and exercise, I’m going to throw up.”
“You definitely don’t hold back, do you?” I smile.
“No, babe. I call it like I see it. Hope that’s okay?”
I nod. “More than okay.” I welcome her honesty. It’s a breath of fresh air after LA where everyone is nice. But too nice. No one says a bad thing to your face. Not even when you really need to hear it.
“Mainly, I try not to eat carbs at night. Avoid processed foods. My mom buys only organic and farmer’s market food. Not too much dairy. Lean proteins and fish. Stuff like that.”
“That explains it.” She tosses her hair again. “So no burgers with chili cheese fries?”
I shake my head. “No, not really.”
I shudder at the thought, actually. I may be thin here, but back home, girls from my class were much smaller. I’m what they called big-boned.
“That’s more like guy food, isn’t it?” I ask.
“Not when it’s 20 degrees out and you’re coming back from the bar at 4 am. Those spicy fries will really warm you up from the inside out.”
Again with the cold. Before it scares me even more, I dec
ided that it’s time for me to go help my parents with the rest of my bags.
My phone beeps.
Where are you? Dad texts.
“I’ve gotta go,” I say. “Need to get the rest of my stuff from downstairs. Are you going to stick around? But my parents are here. I’d love for you to meet.”
“Yes, definitely!” Juliet smiles and tosses her hair again. Apparently, hair can never have enough volume.
2
I walk out into our living room. The accommodations here are a bit more furnished: an ugly blue couch that desperately needs a throw or a few pillows to make it look at least mildly presentable and two identical green recliners that look like they came from some third-rate thrift store. Is there actually a store that manufactures these ugly things? A halfway acceptable coffee table, which has a French country distressed look, except that it’s not cute. It looks like it was actually distressed by the passage of time, not a carefully planned painting job. And a few end tables, which are mismatched in both color and height. Everything in this living room is wrong. And yet, everything about this place feels so right!
My palms grow sweaty from the excitement. I’m actually in New York.
N-e-w Y-o-r-k!!!
I feel like I’m in some fabulous movie, about to embark on the adventure of my life. I’m ready to put on a fabulous pair of fall boots, black tights, and a little black skirt and walk around Central Park with a latte like a real New Yorker!
“Alice?” His voice pierces my fantasy. I know who it is before I turn around. It’s a voice I could never forget no matter how I try.
“Alice? Is that you?” he grabs my arm turning me around.
“Tristan? What’re you doing here?” I ask.
“What’re you doing here?” he asks.
We stand staring at each other for a moment. He hasn’t changed. Not much. But there wasn’t much time for him to change. It has only been two weeks since our infamous break up. Still, he looks more grown up. His light brown hair is shorter now. He’s dressed in a nice pair of slim cut jeans, which accentuates his ass, and his favorite light blue t-shirt with an outline of a penguin on the front. He’s as tan as he always was, that’s what happens when you surf every day of the summer, no matter what. But his eyes are bluer than they used to be. Maybe it’s the light. Or the distance.
Auctioned to Him Book 8 Page 104