by Fiona Murphy
“Leave it alone, Amelia. It is not going to happen.”
Serious now, in a way I haven’t seen her in years. “Brittany was a long time ago. The fact that she didn’t come from the right side of the tracks didn’t make her less of a person. What dad said was bullshit and you’ve always known that. I also remember the fact she wasn’t a size two didn’t bother you.”
Shaking my head, I can’t look at her. “Go home, Amelia. Get some sleep.”
Entering the condo, I close the door before I lean against it for a moment. Why did she have to bring up Brittany? I never think of Britany, never. A thump comes from down the hall reminding me of Holly. I’m glad my thoughts are pulled away from Brittany.
Going down the hall, I find the door to the room open. Holly is putting away her blouses in the walk in closet, not as large as mine, yet still deep enough to hold twice what she is hanging up. This room had been done in a deep purple with silver accents, Amelia had picked the color done in a stripe of plum frost and silver leaf. I was personally glad I hadn’t let her pick the colors in my room but seeing Holly in here, she fits. She’s putting her stuff away in the standing drawer between the closet and private bathroom. The bathroom is a simple five piece, yet well-appointed in all marble with silver fixtures. She turns to see me watching her, her eyes questioning.
The words leave me without thought. “I want to apologize for what I said this morning, it was over the line.”
She shrugs and looks down into her bag. “Why? It was true. You said before you wanted me to speak my mind. I had no doubt you would, too. No need to apologize.”
“According to Amelia, I do. So I am.” I downplay my regret. I’m not willing to admit it had everything to do with how I felt and nothing to do with Amelia.
Her jaw hardens and her sherry eyes go chocolate brown as they meet mine. “Since it’s according to Amelia, then fuck your apology.”
“Were you born an obstinate bitch or made one as the baby girl of the family?” I’m shocked. I can’t believe she’s refusing my apology. Does she not get I never apologize?
“Probably born. I was never treated like a baby girl in my family. I’ll take it as a compliment, coming from an obnoxious asshole like you.”
“I apologize and I’m an obnoxious asshole?” This fucking woman.
“Since you only came in to apologize because Amelia made you feel bad. Then, yes, you are an asshole.” She has no idea her crossed arms are drawing my eyes to her breasts, high and full and shit she’s wearing a new bra. My cock is eager to find out what it looks like on her. Damnit.
Get the fuck out of here, my mind is screaming. I can’t move. “Are you not aware I don’t apologize? I give in, apologize, and I’m the asshole.”
“The fact you just admitted you don’t apologize reinforces it. You do a lot of rude things and treat people badly. If you don’t apologize often then I’m glad I only have to deal with you a few hours a day.”
“You don’t think living here will mean more than a few hours?” I taunt her as my head swims with the possibilities of her so close.
“I know I’m only here because of Amelia. I won’t be here long. I’m used to basically living in one room after years of roommates. Even if you are home, it won’t be more. The only other thing I would be concerned with, after my last living situation, is dealing with other women here. However, Cora told me you don’t bring women here, ever.”
“You’re here because I don’t think anyone should have to live in what was basically a porn set, unless that’s what they’re into. Amelia or no Amelia. I told you the room is yours until you don’t want it.
“Cora was correct, I only fuck women at their place and never spend the night. If their place doesn’t work, a hotel will. So, no, you won’t have to worry about a woman here. That reminds me, last night was more than a little long and vigorous. Time for me to turn in.” Time for me to relieve my cock was more like it. I make my way down the hall and close my door lightly. Hers closes a little more forcefully. Why the hell had I lied like that? Lying to her wasn’t going to change the fact she was the only woman I had fucked last night and it was all in my mind.
Stripping down, I get into bed and run through the top players of the White Sox and their batting averages. It takes over an hour for my cock to go down, as I think of Holly sleeping down the hall. I’m unable to stop from wondering what she sleeps in, if she sleeps in anything at all.
Fuck me.
Chapter Nine
I want to slam the door behind Ethan, only I don’t want him to know just how much he gets to me. Still, it closes harder than I intend. Tossing myself on the queen bed, it seems enormous to me after tiny single beds for the last two years. I refuse to cry over him again. Refuse to think of him in the bed of some woman last night.
Right now, I have no reason to cry. I’m in a plush bed in a million dollar condo. I’m not listening, and will not be made to listen, to someone having sex only a few feet away. No more walking in on people having sex in the kitchen or bathroom. For that reason alone, I should be a shit load happier, not on the verge of tears.
While there is a small part of me worried about actually living with Ethan, I’m not too worried. I’m used to living in my bedroom. He won’t find me on the sofa with the remote or hanging out in the kitchen, even though I like to cook. I have down pat the ability to cook, clean up after myself, eat and be back in my room within less than twenty minutes.
As I finish unpacking, I’m glad to see the blouses and even the tee shirts aren’t wrinkled, as I feared. I’ve kept my old clothes just in case I go back up a size again, even as I pray I don’t. There are empty hangers in the closet, I hang my tee shirts up. This closet is only slightly smaller than my last room. There are shelves for shoes and I fill them with the most shoes I have owned at one time in my life. As I hang the pretty dresses, I consider actually wearing them, and wonder how soon I can. Early April in Chicago is still cool, the kind of weather to grab a light sweater before going out. I think of Amelia’s bossy attitude in the store and am glad she was. It would have taken me years to buy this many clothes. I also would have criticized myself the entire time I bought them. I’m grateful she didn’t give me much choice.
There is a long, low bookcase and I look at it with longing. Then I do it, I unpack my two large suitcases and fill the bookcase to the brim. Half of them are books I’ve read and couldn’t let go of, the other half are some I’m sure I’ll read some day. Seeing them out, now I feel like I’m home. Whoa, this is not home. This is a stopping point for a little while, I sternly lecture myself.
After spending all day cleaning then shopping and then packing and unpacking I’m feeling hot and sticky. A long hot shower sounds good. I sigh as I look around the bathroom, all white marble. Even with this bathroom half the size of Ethan’s it’s beautiful. It is also a five piece with a separate tub and shower. Although the tub is a deep soaking one, there are no jets. Oh well, I’m so tired I’d fall asleep if I took a bath. While I’ve been in it and cleaned it before, it’s different now that it’s mine to use. Tossing my clothes in the white hamper in the bathroom, I remind myself to check the clothes to see what can go in the washer and what needs to be sent to the dry cleaner. The back of the top says machine wash cold, the same with the jeans.
Ready for bed, I grab a pair of cotton underwear and one of my dad’s old Marine shirts. Settling under the sleek, soft sheets, I cuddle into the puffy pillow, barely able to believe my luck. Oops, I put my underwear back where it belongs. As I do I try to remember how old the underwear is. Holy crap, I cannot remember how old my underwear is. After how much better I feel in the new clothes I promise myself tomorrow I’m going shopping for new underwear. I’ll get some comfy cotton, but I’m going to try new materials like the soft silky bra I’m in love with. I roll over and wonder if Ethan is asleep. Bang! The door closes, none of that. I can’t think of him like that and live here. Right now, I need to live here so, no thinking of Ethan as anything
other than an asshole. Which shouldn’t be too hard.
*****
The alarm on my phone goes off, but when I reach for it, I’m still touching sheets and a comforter. Last night comes rushing back. I’m up in an instant, grabbing the phone, making sure to turn off the alarm. I need a quick cold two-minute shower to get going and am in and out. Brushing my teeth, I frown, I really should have washed my hair last night. I’ll do it tonight. I go into the closet and pull down a tee shirt. I’m glad Amelia bought it, it’s not the weirdly thin ones that have become popular. It’s a thick material in grey with the graphic of Sox interlocking in a large bold font in a fading white, for the White Sox, my favorite team. I pick out a pair of jeans, mismatched pink and purple socks, and put on one of the new pairs of sneakers I got last night. Comfy, for a day of cleaning and running around.
This time before I drop the toast in, I check the setting on the toaster to make sure it’s where it’s supposed to be. Then I go through a repeat of yesterday morning. Everything is done on time. I’m putting his plate and coffee on the dining room table as Ethan walks into the room. His only acknowledgement is a nod as he sits.
Fuck him, I give myself a mental high-five as I head back to the kitchen. I start cleaning everything up, then make another pot of coffee for myself. Dropping in two pieces of toast, instead of peanut butter I go with blackberry jam I found in the cabinet yesterday. His eyes are on me, I look up.
“Made yourself free with the coffee, which is fine. Then you ruin it with half and half, and I’m not doubting a generous helping of sugar.”
I smile sweetly. “Not everyone was born without taste buds like you, Ethan. Some of us actually like to enjoy the things we eat.”
“I’ve noticed.” The bastard says with a raised eyebrow.
Then he’s gone, the front door clicking closed behind him. God, I hate that man. I drink the last of the coffee with relish, then fight to keep from throwing it at the empty doorway. Taking a deep breath, I start to clean up the kitchen again. Then pull everything out for his actual breakfast. Since he’s gone, I turn on the radio, turning it to a pop station. I’m pulling out the pan for his eggs and turning on the burner, swinging my ass with the music, when suddenly it’s cut off.
Straightening in surprise, I look up to see Ethan staring at me in annoyance. “You’re early.” I accuse.
“I strained a muscle. I had to cut my workout short. I’m going to spend time in the tub to work out the pain, until it’s time for breakfast.” His forehead is creased, the pain clear on his face.
“If it’s a strain, the tub won’t really help. I can rub it out for you. My mom did it for my dad then when she got arthritis I did it for him and my oldest brother when he went too hard on the weights.” He looks like he’s about to refuse. I want to smack him. “It will take ten minutes for me to rub out, or a few days of pain.” I’m staring at a point above his head. Holy shit, if I thought he looked good in the plain undershirt with tattoos almost to his wrists, now, with the shirt almost clear from sweat and clinging to his muscled tattooed chest, I’m doing that thing again. Damn him. I’m wet, there, again.
“Fine, let me shower off this sweat. Give me five minutes.”
My legs wobble as he leaves. I lean on the counter for support. Most days he moved so quickly I had barely gotten a look at the knife with blood on his right forearm, today I saw the gavel with the wooden holder on his left arm. Who the fuck knew I had a thing for muscled, tattooed, asshole, manwhores?
I’m sure it’s been five minutes, I have no real idea as I’ve been dreaming about what he looks like without his shirt on. I go into my room to grab my almond oil before going to his room. Knocking lightly on the half-opened door, I see he is lying face down. A little sigh comes out at not seeing his chest. Fuck, is he ripped, his back is a mass of muscle with the scales of justice large on his back. Across the bottom of his back is a wolf lying down with its head up. It feels like it’s looking right at me. I see the White Sox logo up his right side but say nothing. Along his left side is a large, intricate tattoo of Don Quixote, with a small windmill at his feet.
Start talking, my mind screams, stop staring. “What movement were you doing when you injured it?” Okay, good, I don’t sound as breathless as I feel.
“Bench press. My spotter looked away for three seconds. I tipped it to one side. He had to pull it off me.”
“What were you pressing?”
“Two hundred.” He sighs as I squeeze a dime size puddle of oil into my palm. I can see the injured muscle glowing a vibrant red.
Damn, it took my brother years to press that. “You know this is going to hurt like hell. I’m sorry, but then it should only be mildly annoying.”
“I’ll deal.” He says into the black silky comforter.
For a moment I freeze, it’s been over five years since I did this. Please don’t let me hurt him. Pressing into the muscle with the ball of my palms I circle. I watch him push his face into the comforter and know he’s hiding a moan of pain. “I never would have figured you for a tattoo person. I thought all lawyers were supposed to be stuffed shirts.”
“Mainly got them to hide the fucked up ones I got in juvie with pen ink. They looked like shit. I thought about trying to get them removed then said fuck it and decided to cover up the bad ones instead. Along the way I saw some I liked so I added them.”
“I got one tattoo, and then was so terrified my parents would find out I never got another one.” I admit.
“Let me guess, a butterfly?”
“Ughh, no! I should press down harder for that. How is it feeling?”
“You’re working out the right place. It’s still pretty sore.”
“Okay then, round two.” I begin again with my palms, adding a little more pressure and circle the muscle.
“A heart?”
“I find that offensive.”
“Hello Kitty?”
“Okay, I’m going to stop if you keep insulting me.”
He chuckles, and oh, my god, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him laugh before. It comes deep from his chest yet is still somehow melodic. I think I could become addicted to that laugh. “Is it a cartoon character? Give me a hint here.”
“No, it’s not a cartoon and I don’t have to give you a hint.”
The sigh comes out of him long and loud. “Damn that feels good.”
“Told you, I had a lot of practice. Take something over-the-counter for it and sleep on your other shoulder tonight. I would lay off the chest workouts for at least a week, too soon and you might tear something. I should have your breakfast ready to go on time while you get dressed.” I say as I climb off the bed. Ethan sits up and I almost walk into the wall. His chest is a masterpiece, Lady Justice is massive over his chest with the sword in her hand, and down low on each hip is a one hundred dollar bill. Turning blindly, I powerwalk down the hall. Holy fucking shit, his body is sin.
The only way I get through the next few minutes is by concentrating on everything I do without thinking of anything else. He’s waiting for his breakfast but says not a word as I bring it through. It’s on time, he had come in a few minutes early and was engrossed in the Tribune.
There isn’t another word from him until he leaves with his shake in his hand. “Thanks again for the massage, it really helped.”
I only nod, speech is still too hard for me.
Chapter Ten
Hell, I’m in hell. It’s where I belong, I’m sure. That thing people are always talking about I used to laugh at, karma, is beating the shit out of me. Holly touching me with that scent I knew was hers alone. Her soft yet strong hands kneading into me were already killing me, then she was leaning against me, and fuck. My cock had been crushed into the bed. I could smell her wet pussy as she kneeled beside me. All I could think of was pulling her under me so I could taste her. I’m not a stingy bastard, I eat pussy often, with pleasure. I want Holly’s badly.
Now I know she wants me too. I’m in hell because I can’t ha
ve her. Even though she looked fucking good enough to eat with her new clothes, she still wasn’t for me. The clothes were an excellent move by Amelia. Now Holly had a real waist and damn, her ass was even more appealing. The small cut v at the neck of the shirt showed off her long neck, only it led to her double chin no clothes could hide. Even as I know I’m a fucker and don’t deserve someone like her, I couldn’t look past the number of small things that all added up. While the clothes helped make her look more appealing, they couldn’t hide completely that she wasn’t the perfection I’ve had for years.
I’m going through my emails as the elevator opens. I see two that jump out at me. One pisses me off, the other has me smiling.
Outside my office, I stop to lean over my secretary’s desk. “Sharon, please explain why you were a bitch to Holly when all she did was introduce herself to you?”
Sharon is scared, she should be. “I didn’t mean to, sir. At the time the email came through, I was flooded with work and it was a nuisance. I shouldn’t have seen it as such. I apologize and will apologize to her. It won’t ever happen again.”
“It had better not. No need to apologize to Holly. Call my sister and have her come up to my office.”
“Yes, sir.”
I’m reviewing a client’s proposal to acquire a company before it went into bankruptcy. “Hello, brother dear. How was Holly this morning?”
“She was fine. So, I financed your spending spree for her?” The card is mine and Amelia has full access to it, as none of her cards has an unlimited limit.
“I figured since it was your fault she was crying, it should be you who put a smile on her face. And please, it was a pittance, she can be very stubborn. Just think of it as a new suit. It’s not as if you can’t afford it.” Not a trace of guilt, she’s right.
“Fine, I bought a new suit yesterday. I had the meeting with the partners, you are officially untouchable to me without bad marks. Good luck.”