by Parker, Ali
“Hey.”
“Come in,” she said.
I followed her into the apartment. It was in a bit of a better state than the last time I’d come over. It was quite tidy and smelled like a variety of cleaners: wood polish, bleach, lemon.
“I was about to pour myself something to drink. Can I interest you in a glass of wine?”
I turned to her. “Sure.”
“If you have to get back to Roy I understand. I just thought we could celebrate.”
I nodded. “I like that idea.”
She poured us each a glass of red, and we made a toast to our good fortune in business together. Then I pulled the papers out of the inside of my jacket and put them down flat on her kitchen counter. I spread them out in a row so she could see them all at once, and I pointed at the little red Xs to indicate where she was to initial and sign.
Elise swallowed. “This is a really big deal.”
“Hell yeah, it is. And you earned it.” I pulled a pen out of my pocket and held it out to her.
She didn’t take it. It hung between us as she scanned each line in the contract. I waited patiently and set the pen down beside her. When she was done, she nodded and stood up a bit straighter. After a long sip of wine, she exhaled. “Why am I so nervous about this?”
“It’s a big step. I think anyone would be nervous, especially a writer.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, shooting me a cross look.
“Nothing bad. Just that you have to protect your work. And your brand. You’re putting a lot of trust in Treo. And in me.”
Her expression softened at those words, and she leaned over, picked up the pen, and signed by all the little red Xs. When she was done, she stacked the pages neatly and slid them toward me. “There. No going back now.”
“Would you want to?”
She met my eye and shook her head. “No. Not even a little bit.”
I held up my wine, and we toasted again. “That’s what I like to hear.”
“I’m surprised your father went for my price.”
I shrugged. “He’s a good businessman. He doesn’t take risks.”
She blinked at me.
“I’m saying you’re a safe bet. You have my backing and Winzly’s. He knows the odds are in his favor in hiring you.”
“Oh.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“I know,” she said. “But he still doesn’t know that it’s me. How is that all going to go down? We can’t keep it a secret forever. I mean, he’s going to figure it out at some point, even if that point is when the book is published and in his hands and has my name on it.”
I laughed. “Fuck. I would love for that to be how he found out.”
She narrowed her eyes at me, but there was a coy smile playing on her lips. “Is it bad that I would also love that?”
“Not even a little bit.”
Elise’s smile grew even more playful before she took a sip of her wine. “Do you usually make house calls for your writers like this, Dallas?”
I smirked. She could see right through me apparently. “Not even once.”
Her hazel eyes twinkled. “Have you eaten dinner?”
I shook my head.
“I was going to order in. Want to join me?”
There was no ulterior motive here. The paperwork was signed. The deal was done. She was in, and we were going to make a bestseller together. And yet she still wanted me to stick around. It sent a warm feeling through me.
“Greek?” I asked. She’d been a big fan of the local Greek tavern when we were running together in high school.
She threw her head back and laughed. “No, pass. I think I ate too much Greek food when I was young, and I developed an intolerance for it.”
“Didn’t I tell you something like that would happen?”
She was still snickering. “Yeah, yeah. You were right. What do you want, then? Thai?”
“Sure.”
Elise called the local Thai food place as I walked a lap around her apartment. It was quite small—about the size of mine and Roy’s bedrooms combined. But how she had it all set up made the space work. Her sofa clearly doubled as a bed, but for one person, it was cozy and inviting. The apartment was also quite clean, save for the random pieces of paper and pens and notebooks lying all over the place.
It was very clearly a writer’s home.
In the time it took for the Thai food to arrive, Elise and I both managed to drink another glass of wine on our own. When the knock came at the door, I hurried to beat her there so I could pay. She scolded me, and the way she slapped my shoulder was playful. Fun. Light.
I tipped the delivery guy, who was very clearly enamored with how beautiful Elise was. I couldn’t blame him. Her joyful laughter, permanent smile, and sexy curves were enough to make any man’s will bend a little. But it did feel a little good to close the door on him.
We sat down on the floor, like we did the last time we were at her place to eat dinner. She and I ate out of each other’s takeout containers, getting the best of both worlds, just like we used to when we were kids.
As she chewed a bite of red curry and rice, she covered her mouth. Elise swallowed. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot,” I said, popping a spring roll in my mouth.
Her lips hardened into a firm line, and she looked down at the table. “Did Roy’s mother die when he was born?”
My eyebrows drew together in a frown.
“I’m sorry,” she said hurriedly, putting her fork down and dabbing her lips with a napkin. “I shouldn’t have asked. You told me it was something you didn’t want to talk about. I don’t know why I can’t just leave it alone.”
“It’s all right,” I said.
“No. It’s not. I’m being really insensitive, Dallas. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “You’re not. It’s a fair question to ask. I think we’ve spent enough time together this last week that I should just be honest with you.”
She swallowed. “Only if you want to be.”
“I do.”
She waited.
I took a deep breath. I never spoke of her. Never. The guilt would sometimes rear up, too powerful for me to escape, and it would sit with me for days and weeks until I managed to bury it back down somewhere deep inside me. “Yes. She died from complications after Roy was born.”
Elise looked down at her lap. “That must have been really difficult for you. A new father suddenly all alone. With a baby. God. I can’t even imagine.”
“It wasn’t easy.”
“What was she like?”
I licked my lips. “She was… she was organized.”
“Organized?”
I nodded. “I have to admit, we didn’t know each other all that well.”
Elise looked puzzled. “What? You were married to her.”
“Yes. As per the arrangement of our parents, who wanted us together to unite our families and to bring them grandchildren.”
“Neither of you wanted to be together?” she asked.
I shrugged. “She was a good friend. And I hope she felt the same way about me. But there was never that fire between us. No passion. No real love. You know what I mean? It was like we were just going through the motions. And one of those motions was to have a baby to appease our parents. And it killed her.”
Elise shuffled across the hardwood floor until her knees were pressed up against my right thigh. “Don’t say that.”
“I’ve come to terms with what happened, Elise. Don’t worry. You don’t need to comfort me.”
“I’m not comforting you. I’m trying to help you see that you had no hand in her death.”
Her words were hollow. There was nothing that would make me believe I wasn’t at least somewhat responsible for how she had died. But I said, “I know.”
She put her hands over mine. “She’d be happy to see how you are with Roy.”
Chapter 28
Elise
The way he was looking at me made me w
ant to cry, but I didn't dare. I was terrified of turning the tables on him and being the one who needed comforting. I wasn’t the one who’d lost a spouse—and on the same day my son was born, to boot.
It was the definition of tragedy, and yet there he was in front of me, still in one piece, holding his chin high in spite of it all. In spite of his guilt.
I wished there was something I could say to make him believe none of it had been his fault. I supposed if I were in his shoes, I would feel the same way.
Dallas offered me a smile that erased the lines of sadness in his face. Then he put a hand on his knee and pushed himself up to his feet before he bent down to collect all the dishes and packages from my coffee table.
He carried everything into the kitchen and began washing the dishes.
I hurried in after him. “You don’t need to do this.”
“I want to.”
“You paid for dinner.”
He shrugged. “So?”
“So. You keep doing all these things for me. I appreciate it, but I don’t need you to take care of me, Dallas. I can take care of myself.”
He laughed. I couldn’t tell what he thought was so funny, and it didn’t really matter. The kitchen flooded with the smell of my lavender-scented dish soap as bubbles foamed on the plate he was scrubbing. The veins in his forearms started to rise, and I found myself looking up the length of his arm to his biceps, which for once, were on display beneath the short sleeve of his T-shirt.
I chewed the inside of my cheek. A man standing in the kitchen scrubbing dishes was probably a turn on for every woman, but having Dallas Jansen scrubbing dishes in your kitchen was a whole different ball game.
Those eyes. That jaw. The way his chuckle rumbled deep in his chest.
I moved behind him as he placed the now-clean plate on the drying mat beside the sink. He picked up a glass and started washing. I slid my hands up the inside of the back of his shirt, tracing the line of his spine with my index finger as I crept higher.
He stopped washing. The muscles that had been moving beneath my palms tensed.
Dallas turned the sink off. I worked his shirt up over the dimples in his lower back and the muscles along his spine and sides. I kissed his hot flesh, relishing the heat of it against my lips.
He turned and faced me. His eyes burned as fiercely as his skin, and he cupped my face with both hands, holding me in place as he sealed his lips over mine.
I opened my mouth. His tongue slid between my teeth. Suddenly overcome with burning need for him, I hooked my right leg around his left, holding myself up as I hurried to pull his shirt over his head. Our lips broke apart as the fabric passed between us, and then we were back, exploring each other’s mouths with ravenous hunger as I threw his shirt over my shoulder.
Dallas wrapped his arms around my waist and held me to him. It felt so fucking good to be held like this. It was like he wouldn’t ever let go, no matter what. I reveled in that feeling of safety, of having a strong man holding on to me this fiercely.
I willed it not to end.
And it didn’t. Not right away at least.
Dallas kept his arms around me as our kiss deepened and our breathing quickened. He held me still as I began fumbling with the button and fly of his jeans.
“Do you have to be home soon?” I grated out when we stopped kissing to catch our breath.
“No. Well. Tonight. But not soon.” His words were clipped and short, like each one took effort to say.
“Is this a bad idea?” I asked as I succeeded in undoing his fly.
“It doesn’t feel bad.”
He was right, of course. It felt like we were doing exactly what we were supposed to be doing. What everything had been building up to. “Kiss me again,” I whispered.
He obliged.
My leg was still hooked around his as I worked his pants and boxers down. His cock sprang free from the confines of the material and rested against my hip, reminding me that he was there. How could I forget?
I broke our kiss and unhooked my leg so I could lower myself slowly, using his body to stabilize myself, until I was in a crouch in front of him and eye level with his cock. I wet my lips with my tongue, rubbed them together, and then took him in my mouth.
“Fuck,” he growled, leaning forward a bit to brace himself against the counter at my back. I looked up at him, his cock still in my mouth and pressing into the back of my throat, and I held his gaze. I knew he liked that. He always had.
My view from down on the floor was spectacular. If I’d thought his muscles were impressive when he was doing dishes, they were even more impressive now as he strained against the pleasure of having his dick sucked. I worked him over, nice and slow at first, enjoying the way his stare hardened and his jaw flexed.
He looked so good I could just eat him up.
Dallas groaned as I reached up and cupped his balls, rolling them in my palm gently. I bobbed my head back and forth, and he reached down to run his fingers through my hair. I waited for his fist to tighten, but it didn’t. He stroked his fingers through my hair gently and watched me, his gaze growing hooded as he bowed his head and closed his eyes.
Then seconds later, Dallas’s eyes snapped open, and he stepped back. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood up, waiting for direction. He gave it by grabbing my wrist and pulling me to the sofa.
Dallas jerked me toward him and pushed me back so I was sitting on the arm of the sofa. Then he worked my T-shirt up over my head. He set himself upon my bare skin with his lips, leaving warm marks in their wake as he kissed my chest and cleavage and shoulders. As he kissed me, he began undoing my pants. He shimmied them down my hips, and once they were around my ankles, I stepped out of them.
He took my panties off next and then reached behind my back to unhook my bra.
Now all my clothes lay on the floor. He was naked, too. And the space between us was unbearable. I reached for him, and he came to me, wrapping himself around me and enveloping me with his warmth.
Even though I was warm, my skin prickled with goosebumps. Dallas wedged his knee between my legs and caressed my breasts, pushing them up and together and rolling the soft flesh against his palms. I was melting in his hands.
He worked his way down, running his fingers gently down my sides and hips before he settled between my legs. I was forced to balance myself precariously on the arm of the sofa when he pushed my legs farther apart and kissed up the inside of my thigh until he reached my pussy.
I gripped the edge of the sofa and hung my head back when his tongue flicked over my swollen clit. The softest moan escaped me, leaving my lips like a broken sigh and floating in the space between us. Dallas rolled his tongue then moved up and down, tracing my opening and daring me to come.
It wasn’t going to take long.
My body was already preparing for the orgasm. My muscles were tightening and straining at every lick and flick he spoiled me with. I held my breath, and my toes curled, and I squeezed my eyes closed. A pressure formed and hardened below my belly, and when Dallas sealed his lips over my clit and sucked, drawing it into his mouth and rolling his tongue over my sensitive nub, all the tension blew apart. My insides contracted and relaxed, and pleasure rolled through me.
“Yes!” I screamed.
Dallas moaned into my pussy and slid a finger inside me. Aroused by my new wetness and the way my legs were trembling, he looked up the length of my body and held my gaze. His finger moved slowly in and out of me as his tongue showered my clit with attention.
“Please,” I whispered.
“Please what, baby?”
“It’s too much.”
“There’s no such thing,” Dallas growled.
He drew my clit between his lips again. Pinched it gently. Flicked his tongue. Fucked me with his finger. Then two fingers.
And I came again. This time, I screamed his name, and he stood, grabbed me by the hips, and flipped me around.
I planted my feet on the floor and press
ed my knees to the side arm of the sofa to stabilized myself. My legs were trembling, and my knees were weak.
Dallas wasn’t behind me anymore. I looked over my shoulder as he went and retrieved his jeans from the floor of my kitchen. He rummaged around in his front pocket, withdrew a condom, and came back to stand behind me while he tore the wrapper open with his teeth and rolled the condom on.
I thought he was going to tease me, or make me wait, or take his time. I was wrong.
Dallas stepped between my legs, rubbed the head of his cock up and down my opening, and then pushed himself deep inside me with his first steady thrust.
I whimpered and leaned farther over the armrest to plant both hands on the seat cushion. Dallas put his hand on the base of my neck and held me down as he drove himself deep inside me, over and over.
When he wasn’t able to get the angle he wanted, he let my neck go but gruffly told me to stay where I was. I obeyed, and he grabbed my hips, pulling me sharply against him with every thrust.
I grabbed one of the throw pillows on the sofa and buried my face in it as I screamed again. Pleasure shot through me. Dallas growled behind me. His grip on my hips tightened, and his fingers pressed into my soft flesh.
I bit down on the pillow. He grunted with the power of his own climax.
His hips slowed to a steadier rhythm, and we descended together, both of us breathing hoarsely as he gently guided me back up off the sofa. He stepped around me and sat where I’d just had my head buried. With a tug, he pulled me down on his lap and kissed my cheek.
I curled up against his thick bare chest. What a wonderful place to be. He smelled as he always did, like pine and musk.
I looked up at him, and he stroked my hair off my forehead. I leaned in and kissed his neck. “Do you have plans for Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Dinner at my father’s at eight.”
“That seems late,” I said. My voice was thin in my own ears, probably from the screaming. My poor neighbors.
“My father thinks it is low class to eat any earlier.”
“Typical Mark Jansen,” I said, a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth.
Dallas chuckled and kissed the tip of my nose. “At least he’s consistent.”