My heart was thumping. Yet, someone behind me blew their horn, as the light had changed, and we hadn’t moved.
“Alright already,” I said, grinding the clutch into gear, nearly stalling out again, before I got the car to move.
I blew out a breath.
“And there is nothing boring about you. You make car rides, five-hour plane rides, and waiting in long ass lines like the one for the Rockefeller Center tolerable. Come here.”
I really needed her next to me even though I was struggling to drive the final blocks to my house. Leaning over the middle console, she settled in against my side.
I kissed her forehead.
But she had to move when I needed to shift gears again.
Damn, I was so done. So deeply in love. I needed to tell her that, officially this time, but not until we made it back to my house.
By the time we reached the house, Lana was close to tears again—this time because she was laughing at my crap driving skills. I finally stalled out in the driveway. “I’ll give you lessons,” she promised. “Have you ever driven stick before?”
Only once and it had been in a parking lot with a friend of mine from college. “Get over here,” I told her, gripping her waist, pulling her into my lap. “I’ll show you how to drive stick, woman.”
I had her skirt hitched up and her top off at record speed. But I wasn’t looking for a quick fuck in her car. Not when my bed was just inside the house. So we left the car and I carried her upstairs. I fumbled through the hallway, making it to my room, bringing her inside, dropping her on top of my unmade bed.
She was right where she belonged.
I stripped off my clothes, not bothering to be slow about it. I stroked my hand up and down my already hard and desperate cock, taking in how perfect she looked tangled in my sheets.
My heart was swelling. I needed to tell her. But instead, I dropped to my knees. I yanked her body to the edge of bed, pushing up her skirt. Slipping her panties to the side, I buried my face between her legs. I breathed in deeply, getting lost in her sweet, feminine scent, then I got to work, making her come in a whole new way.
CHAPTER 33
LANA
Clawing at the sheets, I cried out Joe’s name as he brought me to another earth-shattering orgasm. We’d been at it for at least an hour now, exploring different positions, pushing our relationship to a whole new level, trying to set some kind of world record it seemed.
He collapsed on the bed beside me. We were both out of breath, panting and sweating, staring at the ceiling.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
“Ditto.”
That had been amazing . . . and different. I guess the barriers of his past had been stripped away. It wasn’t his first time in a long time. He didn’t need me to be in control to help him heal. It was just him and I—making love the way two people in love were supposed to.
In love . . ..
That was what my heart had been singing all afternoon. Since the moment I’d left Doug’s office and seen him there, waiting in Weird and Wired for me. He’d tracked me down. He’d come for me. That meeting with Doug had ended, and he was the one person I’d wanted to run to. Luckily, I hadn’t needed to run very far.
Seeing him standing there, if I hadn’t already been completely lost down the Joe Coffee rabbit hole, I certainly was now.
“Joe,” I whispered into the gray room. At some point the sun had sank outside, and it was getting dark fast. I wanted the words I was feeling, but I hesitated. I’d never said those words to anyone before.
“I’m starving,” I said instead. “Can you order pizza?”
He exhaled, still catching his breath. “Yeah. Of course.”
He moved off the bed, searching for his phone. When it took him a moment to find it, he flipped on the lights. A second later, he stood in the middle of his room, naked, glistening with sweat, talking on his phone with a local pizza place as his eyes watched me. I climbed out of bed, about to search the room for some of my clothes to put back on, when I spotted something else instead.
It was a pad of Post-it notes on his desk. I crossed the room as Joe spoke, ordering us two large pepperoni pizzas. Two? I don’t know why we needed two.
I grabbed the Post-its and pen, writing him a message. I padded back across the room, over to where he stood, handing him my message as he was giving the person on the other end of the line his address.
It read: I love you too.
He took in my words. Tears formed in his beautiful blue eyes, making them more vibrant than ever. I couldn’t believe I’d brought a man as strong as Joe to tears with only those simple words.
“Thirty minutes,” he said out loud, his voice husky. “Okay, thank you.” He clicked off his phone, letting it slip from his fingers to the floor.
“Say it out loud, Lana. I need to hear the words from your perfect lips.” He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me in against his lean, hard body. He was hard again, his cock pressing against me. I was sore from an entire evening spent in bed, but instantly, I ached for him again. I couldn’t get enough.
“I love you,” I told him. “I love you. I love you.”
Now that I’d said it once, I couldn’t seem to stop saying it. I didn’t need to be afraid that I was freaking him out with my words or coming on too strong. I could tell he loved hearing it, as much I loved saying it, because this wicked smile, a genuine Joe Coffee smile, spread across his lips.
“You’re amazing,” he said backing me against the bed. “When I came into your office and I couldn’t find you this afternoon, I was so terrified that Doug had done something to hurt you. You’re my woman, and I would never let anyone hurt you. I love you, too. I love you more than any vice or anything in this world. I will marry you some day . . . just be prepared for that.”
My heart never felt so full. I couldn’t stop smiling. Joe started kissing down my neck, and across my chest. I was quickly learning that when he was focused, he was hyper-focused. And that made him the perfect, most attentive lover.
“I want to sell Java Beans,” I whispered.
He stopped his kisses to look at me. “What?”
“I want to start over. Maybe even sell to Doug if he wants to buy it. Because at some point, what started off as a fun adventure, turned into hard work. I loved the early days, working from my dad’s shed. Even when I upgraded to the barista to-go truck. And I want to get back to that. I’m sick of the office life, of the suits, of the political side to everything. I want it all to be simple again. What do you think? Do you want to start a new company with me? Just the two of us?”
“Yes, I do.” He nipped at my skin. “Only if we can call it Joe Coffee.” He grinned, wiggling against me. “And you can’t sell to Doug, you can’t let him win like that.”
“I’ll sell to whoever pays me the most money.”
“Okay. Fair enough. I love you, Lana; this is going to be fun.”
He pressed me down on the bed, pushing inside me once more, and we made love while we waited on our pizza to hurry up and get here. Turned out, Joe had order two pizzas because he knew we wouldn’t be leaving his house for a while.
EPILOGUE
LANA
The December cold bit at my nose. Joe, when given the proper opportunity, loved talking to a crowd. His face would light up in a big smile, one I had trouble discerning if it was real or only part of a show, and he had a way commanding an audience. The audience right now was my parents, Abe and his family, a few other neighbors I grew up with in Washington, and some friends of Joe’s from his AA meetings he still attends every Sunday. Kitty was supposed to be here, with a new man of course, but she had yet to show. We’d been seeing less and less of her lately, and that behavior worried Joe to death.
“Should I start?” Joe mouthed to me.
I shrugged, glancing at the open road running next to the mostly empty parking lot we had all gathered in. She wasn’t coming. It was already past the time to start. I didn’t want our f
riends and family suffering out in the cold another moment longer because Kitty couldn’t get herself together fast enough for something so important to her brother—her brother who would literally do anything for her. Would walk off a cliff for her. Would let a man like Doug Maddox blackmail him for her.
“Go ahead,” I mouthed to him, hugging my puffy coat a little closer to my body. We were all cold and starving.
“Alright guys,” Joe started, his eyes shining in the mid-morning sun, his smile as full and as wonderful as ever, “thank you for coming out today. It means everything to me and Lana to have you all here to witness our grand opening. When Lana first told me that she wanted to sell Java Beans, I couldn’t believe it. Java Beans was her baby. But she was passionate about starting over, and I’m passionate about Lana, so here we all are.”
The crowd chuckled.
I don’t know how he did it, but no matter what he said, people always listened to each of his words as if the next were as important to them as their next breath of air.
When Joe first met my parents, you should have seen them, they were both practically falling at his feet. My mom took me aside in the middle of dinner and whispered, “Marry him or I will.” And my dad—you would have thought he found his long-lost son.
But then again . . . I guess I was equally enamored.
Still.
Always.
“So, without further ado, we give you—Lana, wait, you need to be over by my side.” He gestured for me to come over.
“That’s okay, you can do it.” It was just removing a sheet.
“Get over here, woman. Now. Help me out.” He had a playful, sternness in his eyes—a look I’d come to know very well, a look I knew he wasn’t afraid to show me in front of people.
Playful Joe was always a hard man to deny, so I did as he asked and joined him by the truck. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he yanked me in close for a moment. Just enough time to nestle his nose deep into my hair, heating me up, and completely making me blush in front of all our friends.
“Alright already!” Chase, Abe’s son, yelled. “I’m freezing my balls off here! Show us the truck!”
I let Joe linger for another moment before I broke away. “Fine, Chase, if you insist . . ..”
“I insist.”
It was just your standard, white bed sheet. But it was what it covered that was important. It covered our new, improved barista to-go truck—with brand-new, state-of-the-art equipment, a fresh paint job, and our new company’s logo. I grabbed the corner of the sheet and yanked it down.
JOE COFFEE—it read in big, bold letters across the side. Complete with a brand-new coffee logo, designed by Joe himself.
I think Joe had been joking when he suggested we use his name as our company name. But I liked the idea. With Java Beans, I’d always put this pressure on myself. Pressure to be bigger and better, to make more and more money, all the while striving for something intangible, something that was always just out of grasp. I lost sight of the fun stuff and became too corporate as my company grew bigger than I ever knew it would.
So selling it, as it turned out, ended up being a huge relief.
No more all-nighters. No more sleeping under my desk in my office. No more missed weekends. No more yelling at innocent baristas when they forget to put in the lid tightly on my coffee. Now, instead, I had time for spontaneous trips to New York and days spent in bed with Joe.
Joe Coffee—the company, or more accurately, the truck—represented something so different.
It represented freedom.
A chance to start over and do this better this time.
Java Beans sold for fifteen million. Minus the start-up costs for our improved truck, I still had tons of money, which meant that it didn’t matter how successful we were. Joe and I could live comfortably, and have fun with this, and it didn’t matter.
I’d never been so excited for something in my life.
All our friends and family clapped and cheered. I guess they liked the truck. Or maybe they were just happy for us. We had everyone line up and started taking orders, testing out some of the new drink recipes that Joe had invented.
We’d just served Abe, who was last in the line, who thanked and congratulated us, the same way friends congratulate you after you’ve graduated from college, or gotten married, or had a baby. As if it was a huge milestone in life. In a way, this kind of was. It meant that Joe and I were more than just boyfriend/girlfriend—we were business partners. A huge commitment, and I couldn’t have been happier to be doing this with him.
“It went great,” he whispered to me, holding my hand under the counter.
I smiled widely at him. “It went perfectly.”
That was when Kitty finally showed.
In a car I didn’t recognize.
With a man I did.
The man was Doug Maddox.
And they were together.
Thanks for reading!
I hope you enjoyed BUT FIRST, COFFEE
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Now here’s a sneak peak of Kitty’s book—Book 2 in the Love & Coffee Series.
Coming Winter 2019. . .
BUT FIRST, WHISKEY
(Love & Coffee #2)
SARAH DARLINGTON
CHAPTER 1
KITTY
This was awkward. I typically went out of my way to avoid awkward situations like the one I was about to get myself into. But, nevertheless, my brother needed me. He’d been there for me time and time again. Now it was my turn to step up, to face the music, to put on my big girl pants, and complete this task for him.
Pausing to check my reflection in the glass doors that lead into the coffee shop called, Weird and Wired, I made sure my red lipstick still looked fierce.
It did.
Good.
I needed to look as confident as possible on the outside.
I pulled open the door, ready to be done with all of this bullshit once and for all. Bullshit by the name of Doug Maddox. The man blackmailing my brother with my sex tapes. Sex tapes my loser ex-boyfriend Zane tried to sell to a porn company a couple of years back. Doug had them now.
One quick glance around the trendy Portland coffee shop and I found him. The douchebag in the crisp, designer suit. He had a cup of coffee, a cellphone, and his keys sitting on the stainless-steel table in front of him. He saw me the moment I saw him. Our eyes connected across the room.
It made me cringe knowing he’d seen me naked. Probably jacked-off to my tape. Multiple times, possibly nightly. In videos that I hadn’t given my full consent to be sent out into the world, or even consent to be made in the first place.
I rolled my eyes, walked across the room, and took the seat in front of him. He wasn’t entirely bad looking, for a douchebag. He had honey-brown hair, light blue eyes, and nice lips. I mean, if you’re into that bland, cookie-cutter type of a man—which I wasn’t—he’d be perfect for you.
“I got all your messages, Kitty. You wanted to meet?”
“It’s Kathrine.” No, this fool was not going to get to call me by the nickname my brother started. “And you have something of mine I want back. Four somethings to be exact.”
“I paid one million dollars for your five videos. I kindly gave you one of them back.”
“And now I’m asking for the rest. Politely. You want your million dollars back? I’ll call up Daddy and have him wire me the money. But since I’d rather shoot myself in the foot than speak to that man again in this lifetime, why don’t you try being a nice person and give them to me? Let go of your stupid grudge once and for all. I know your family is worth billions upon billions. One million dollars is probably like pocket change to you people. Just give me my tapes back. Please, Doug, this has gone on far too long. Don’t you see how petty and stupid you’re being?”
His jaw tightened and he ran a hand over his face. “Did you destroy the one tape I already returned?”
Why did he care what I did with
it? “No, not yet.”
“You need to.”
“I’ll get around to it when I feel like it. It doesn’t show my face, so it’s not like I’m too worried about it falling into the wrong hands. But since the rest of the tapes apparently do show my face, and are already in the wrong hands, my main concern is on them.” I breathed in and out a few times. I could argue with anyone, a specialty of mine, and if he wanted to go at this all day, I would gladly take part.
“So, wait.” He shook his head. “You haven’t watched the ones I have in my possession before? What about the one I returned?”
I swallowed. When he returned the first tape to my brother last week, it was like seeing a horrific traffic accident, the kind you can’t help but look at as you drive by, even though you know you shouldn’t look it.
Well, I saw the tapes.
I looked.
And the feeling it left me with was sickening.
Zane was a twisted man.
I’d had a bag over my head in the video. Not like a soft, silk, nice one, but a brown paper bag with string tied around the bottom, around my neck, to keep it in place, and a small hole cut for mouth to breath out of. And I wasn’t sober. That much was apparent by the way my body didn’t move like it should have. The night he’d filmed this was one giant blur. Zane had fucked me hard, rough, and fast, and in positions that didn’t look comfortable. I wasn’t even sure if I’d enjoyed it. Kind of hard to tell with a paper bag over my head. I felt nausea swirl in my stomach all over again as Doug brought it up. I guess I’d been in some kind of denial about my past relationship with Zane before seeing that video. Now my denial had cracks in it.
“I watched it,” I told him with a hard face.
A blush of redness crept up his neck and across his cheeks. He tugged at his tie, loosening it. “You haven’t seen the others though?”
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