Her Perfect 10

by Brianna Cash

  I guess he’s not all that mysterious. He’s much more willing to give up personal info than I am.

  Maybe that’s not true. I mean, how much do I really know about him? I know how he reacts to my straightforwardness. I know that he makes me feel like a better person than I normally think I am. I know that I enjoy getting his advice, joking with, and just talking with him, whether he gives up a lot of personal information or not.

  It’s the mystery he’s willing to let go of. He’s much more willing to give up his anonymity. I’m the only one clinging to it. Maybe that’s because I’ve told him so much. He knows some of my secrets that even my best friends don’t know. He doesn’t act like he judges me because of all the shit I’ve told him, but will that change when there’s a face to go with the…well, not name, but initials?

  Shit, last night was intense. I never thought I’d do the whole sexting thing, but wow. Did I imagine Owen when I described that hot scenario? Absolutely. I kind of wished I was talking to Owen. Part of me wishes Owen was 736. Wouldn’t that make life so much easier?

  Life is hardly ever easy or convenient.

  “Sadie.”

  Looking up, I find one of the guys I’ve been fantasizing about standing in front of my desk. Is it really almost nine-thirty? Have I been sitting here daydreaming about him for almost three hours already?

  “Owen,” I answer in my professional I-don’t-really-care-about-you voice. It’s getting harder and harder to use that tone with him. I want to give in and say his name on a breathless moan. I want to tell him to meet me in the hallway, the one with that closet, on his lunch break. I want to tell him to email me later, and to make it dirty. I’ll print it out and take it with me to the bathroom, where I’ll read his words and get myself off, wishing it was his hand instead of my own, because he can somehow do it better than I can.

  “I brought you something.”

  My smile slips through. “Really? What?”

  I should be telling him thanks, but no thanks. I shouldn’t be jumping up to grab the small, brown, paper bag he pulled out of an insulated lunch box.

  “Just something I thought you’d appreciate.”

  I rip the bag open while he stands there watching, and gasp at the sight of two flaky, golden croissants sitting in the bag, taunting me.

  “Where did you get these?” I mumble around my first bite, because, come on! I’m not waiting to try these! They’re still somewhat warm. And they melt in my mouth. And oh, God, these might be as good on my tongue as his cock. “Owen, these are so good!”

  “I made them. For you. Since I’m the reason you didn’t get any on Sunday.”

  Deliberately ignoring his remark, made only to remind me that he was busy pounding into me when I should have been making my way down to the café for my daily dose of island goodness, I swallow hard. “You made them? Seriously?”

  He gives me a very confident smile, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he watches me stuff the rest of the pastry into my mouth. “Owen…” I moan with a full mouth, unable to believe he did this for me.

  “You really shouldn’t say my name like that.” His voice is low and raspy, reminding me of all the intimate moments we’ve shared.

  “Sorry.” Heat fills my cheeks. I really didn’t think I’d cave this fast or easily, but he brought warm croissants into the picture! That’s not playing fair.

  “They’re better right out of the oven.”

  “I know.”

  “I was planning on baking a few more tomorrow.” His eyes are on my mouth as I debate eating the other one. Can I resist for now, knowing I’ll get to eat it later? But it won’t be warm later. “You can come over. If you want to try one when it’s hot and fresh…”

  My lips slide into a smirk. “You’re resorting to bribery?”

  “Just want to give you the option. I know you prefer certain things in particular ways.”

  I laugh, loving his low-risk innuendo.

  We’re playing a very dangerous game, though, one that’s not low-risk at all. I’m doing my best to keep things at work professional. But I want him. And he wants me. Neither one of us is in a relationship right now. Maybe I’m on the brink of one with 736, but I’m the one who said we’re free to do whatever we want until we change us into something tangible.

  And he agreed with that when we vaguely discussed what or who we did over the weekend.

  Next weekend is the wedding. I’m going to be spending a lot of time with Owen. I’m going to be touching him for pictures, walking down the aisle, the dance. Oh, the dance... That will be a very good excuse to get as close to him as I can.

  If I’m already planning on that—let’s face it, I won’t stop with just dancing—maybe I should give in.

  At least until after the wedding.

  “Maybe,” I finally answer. His lips twitch at the least-discouraging thing I’ve said to him all week.

  He steals a business card from the many rows of them on my desk, writing something on the back and sliding it to me. “Does one o’clock work? Croissants for lunch?”

  Dammit, I can’t resist. Pulling a corner off the remaining croissant, I pop it into my mouth, savoring the buttery, flakey layers with my eyes closed, wondering how he can make them taste better than a five-star resort’s.

  He’s giving me the chance to eat them hot, just the way I like them.

  Glancing at the address he wrote down, I slide the card into my pocket, making sure it won’t get lost and I’ll still have it at the end of the day. “Make it noon… This is just croissants, though!”

  He laughs, giving me that smile I’ve missed all week, the one I never saw before last weekend, the one that makes him look truly happy and carefree and amazingly sexy. “Just croissants, Sadie. Nothing else unless you beg me.”

  I try to stop even more heat from exploding on my cheeks by clenching my thighs together, but it’s useless. I’m sure I’m as red as a tomato. He knows exactly how much begging him affected me. It affected him, too, but I’m an instant gratification girl, and he’s much more into the anticipation.

  Both are pretty great with Owen.

  We both know I’ll be begging him tomorrow. For his croissants and his cock.

  I’m already enjoying the anticipation.

  Owen

  My morning is spent cutting, shaping, and rolling dough, brushing croissants with an egg wash and, finally, letting them proof. They should be ready to go in the oven shortly after Sadie gets here.

  I went back and forth a few times, debating on making a couple into chocolate croissants. In the end, I did. Not all of them, just a couple. I also made a few into ham and cheese croissants, since I promised her lunch. I prepped the dough every night through the week, when I was unable to think about anything except her. She can freeze any she doesn’t eat, but I don’t know that there will be any left for her to eat later.

  I didn’t know if my plan was stupid or brilliant until she said maybe. I’m still not positive she’s going to show, but watching her face as she let the first pastry melt in her mouth yesterday made me hopeful. Even if only for lunch.

  If lunch is all we share, I’ll be disappointed, but I certainly won’t complain. It’s a vast improvement from what I’ve endured since we said goodbye at the airport on Sunday.

  Someone knocks lightly on the door and I smile as I check the time. She’s a half hour early.

  It reminds me of her story. The one that was supposed to be about building a fire. Should I open the door and say I wish she hadn’t waited as long as she did? It certainly fits. I’ve been trying to talk to her all week. With her here, and the building we work in miles away, she’ll hopefully be comfortable enough to drop her professional, nothing-happened-between-us attitude.

  She said she wasn’t ready to know who her writing partner was, though. Thursday night, after our assignment, when I was very willing to send her a picture of myself, she said it was too soon.

  I swing the door open with a smile. “I’m glad you�
��re earl—”

  My smile falters, then dies. My greeting lingers in the air for a second, then falls, smashing against the floor and shattering around our feet. It’s not Sadie. It’s Penny.

  “Hi.” She flashes me a shy smile. “Were you expecting someone?”

  “Yeah…” I rub my hand across the back of my neck. “What’s up? What do you need?”

  “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “What for, Penny? I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

  She flinches at my honesty but doesn’t back down. “I’m sorry I said that about you, Owen. Can I come in for a minute?”

  I open the door wider with a heavy sigh. Why is she here? Why is she suddenly sorry she called me boring? I’m not sorry at all; I’m glad she did. It got me willingly talking to SD. It made me single at the right time to kiss Sadie in that closet. It made me look at life differently, because she was completely and totally correct.

  I leave the door open, so she doesn’t think I want her to get comfortable, and stand in the kitchen with my arms crossed.

  “Are you baking?” She eyes the rising croissants on the counter, the ones I don’t want her anywhere near. I wouldn’t bake for her. She would never appreciate it the way Sadie did yesterday. “They look good. How long until they’re done?”

  “Why’re you here, Penny?”

  Her lips pinch tightly together. She’s quickly understanding that I don’t want her here. Apparently, it’s not the reaction she was expecting.

  “Next week is your brother’s wedding.”

  I blink, expecting more of an explanation. “And?”

  “Well, I was supposed to go with you...” She wrings her hands together as she moves to stand in the living room. I stay where I am. I don’t like that she’s moving further into my apartment instead of out of it, but I’m not going to follow her around and make her feel good about showing up uninvited. “I still will. You don’t have to go alone.”

  “I’m not going alone. Thanks for the offer, but I have a date.”

  I’m hoping to have a date. That makes it not an actual lie, right?

  Oh, screw it. Who cares if I’m lying to my ex-girlfriend, who found someone else before she broke up with me?

  A condescending smile twists onto her lips. “Lizzy isn’t a date, Owen.”

  “Lizzy’s four, the flower girl, and my niece. She’s not who I’m talking about.”

  “Who else would you find to go with you?”

  “Umm… Hi.”

  My grin is back and bigger than ever. Sadie showed up at literally the perfect time. She’s standing in the doorway, her raised brows and frowning lips making me smile even harder as she looks between Penny and me.

  Closing the distance between us, I pull her against me, praying she won’t fight me as I drop my voice to a whisper. “Please roll with it ‘till she leaves.”

  When I pull back, she’s smirking, but definitely playing along.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her honestly.

  “I’m a little early.” Her eyes move from mine to my mouth as she stands rigid in my arms. After spending a full weekend memorizing every move and expression she made and knowing the way her mind works by texting her under the guise of her writing partner, I know exactly what she’s thinking. She wants me to kiss her. It has nothing to do with playing along; she’s holding back because she’s not sure what she walked into. “I was expecting you to be alone.”

  “Penny stopped by unexpectedly.” I give her a smile, one that indicates we share many secrets. Which we do, but she doesn’t quite realize that yet. “I was hoping it was you when I answered the door, not my ex-girlfriend.”

  “In that case…” Her hands lock around my neck, pulling my lips to hers. The magic that happens every time we kiss takes over, and I don’t care that Penny is here and watching. Let her watch. Let Sadie claim what’s hers. Even if she doesn’t want to admit yet that I’m everything she needs.

  Penny’s quick to clear her throat, trying to stop what’s happening right in front of her eyes. Instead, Sadie’s mouth forms a smile as she tips her head farther back, pulling me half on top of her, and opening her lips under mine in a silent plea to stop teasing her and deepen the kiss.

  “Owen?” Penny asks as Sadie and I tangle our tongues together. She clears her throat again. Loudly. When I pull back, Sadie’s smiling up at me, her eyes laughing as she licks her lips like I taste delicious. Like she can’t get enough of me.

  “Sorry, baby,” Sadie says breathlessly. Her thumb rubs over my bottom lip, like she’s rubbing off some of her lipstick. “You know I can’t resist you. I’ll give you guys a minute, but don’t take too long.”

  Her ass sways seductively as she saunters into my living room, and I’m physically unable to tear my eyes away. After giving Penny a beautiful try-and-take-him-if-you dare smile, she flops onto my couch like she owns it. Like this isn’t the first time she’s been here and she knows exactly where everything in my apartment is because she rearranged it all to her liking.

  Penny walks over to stand next to me, clearing her throat again. I rip my gaze off the girl who turned my entire world upside down and look at the girl that seemed content with our boring routine.

  Until she found someone else.

  “Penny…what were we talking about?”

  Her cheeks are bright red. This is the most embarrassed I’ve ever seen her, and I chuckle to myself. Sadie’s much prettier than Penny when blushing. Or any other time. Sadie is bolder, more confident, more uninhibited, more fun, more everything that’s good. And I can still make her blush as hard as Penny is right now. Except with Sadie, it’s a language all our own, one we created together and no one understands but us.

  Penny’s only embarrassed because she wants me back for some reason, and after Sadie’s display, she’s correctly assuming that isn’t going to happen.

  “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t going alone to the wedding.”

  “I have someone to dance with, don’t worry.” I quickly usher her out my door. “Whatever happened to that guy you cheated on me with? What was his name? Mitch, or Matt, or…something with an M?”

  “I…we’re not together anymore.”

  “Too bad. See ya around, Penny.”

  When I close the door, Sadie’s hand is on mine, helping me turn the deadbolt. She eyes the croissants on the counter, biting her lip. “How much time do we have?”

  My head tilts to the side as I fight to keep a smile off my lips. “For what, Sadie? You ready to beg so soon?”

  Her breath hiccups in her chest and her thighs visibly squeeze together. “I’ll get on my knees if you want me to.”

  The croissants aren’t quite ready to go in the oven. “It’ll have to be quick.”

  “You can get me off in two minutes flat.”

  “Ohh, Sadie…” I shake my head, then twirl a lock of her hair around my finger, dying to touch her but knowing I won’t stop as soon as I make contact with her addictive skin. “You made me wait all week. How many minutes will it take you to get me off?”

  She reaches for the waistband of my pants, tugging gently. “If I use my mouth, less than one.”

  Groaning softly at the thought of her mouth on me again, I look her in the eyes and give her my first demand of the night. “Get on your knees and beg for it, Sadie.”

  Chapter 22

  Sadie

  A Starbucks cup appears on my desk and I look up to find Owen smiling at me. “What’d you get me?”

  “Caramel macchiato.”

  He might be after my heart instead of just sex. And I might be ok with that. “Owen…”

  “Sadie.” His voice holds a warning. I should know by now what saying his name like that does to him. “Can I join you for lunch today?”

  Hmm. Join me for lunch. Is that code for fuck me in the closet?

  So, yeah. I might have completely caved on keeping things professional and forgetting all about what happened between us in the
Caribbean. I may have spent the rest of the day with him Saturday, and half of Sunday, exploring his apartment, his body, and his fucking phenomenal croissants. Heaven on Earth right there.

  And on Monday, at work, I didn’t act like I didn’t want to see him. Because I really, really like seeing him.

  Tuesday, I joined him for dinner. And slept over. And had a panic attack when I almost didn’t make it to work on time Wednesday morning.

  It’s Thursday now, and I’m all for lunch with him. Especially if it’s code for fucking in the closet.

  “Actual lunch, Sadie,” he clarifies for my dirty mind. “You and me, sitting and talking while we eat. With clothes on.”

  When I frown, he chuckles, causing quite a few people to look in our direction. Including Clive, who starts walking toward us.

  Owen’s voice drops so only I can hear him. “Is there somewhere we can go for lunch where clothes are optional?”

  Do I go there? Do I tell him about the closet I’ve been fantasizing about?

  He might already know about it.

  He might be OC736.

  My suspicions started when I overheard his ex-girlfriend talk about Lizzy, his niece. Coincidence, right? But then I remembered how 736 asked me last Thursday night how I wanted it when we were texting about my fantasy, the one where Owen fucks me at work. Owen is the person who asks me how I want things, not 736. And when I was at Owen’s over the weekend, I asked him to make me more croissants—since he’s also a baker!—and he gave me this look, where he was smiling, and thinking, and hoping. He said “promise,” just like 736 does. It’s never I promise, or I promise you. It’s always just promise, and that’s exactly what Owen says.

  About the baking thing… He hasn’t said anything about chocolate cake, but those croissants? I asked him how they were made, wanting to know how much trouble he went through to make them. It took him days to get that dough ready. Days! Who the hell has the patience for that?

  And now? A caramel macchiato? The same drink my mysterious singer ordered in that super weird assignment where we needed to use words like avocado and sing and Volvo?