by Tessa Bailey
“Right.” She fidgeted with her day planner. “Sounds good. It’s the Forty-Second Street location. Meet me there at eight?”
He nodded once. “I’ll be there.”
She shoved the planner into her purse and hefted it up onto her shoulder. “Bye, Oliver.” Obviously as uncertain how to proceed as him, she gave him a little wave and headed for the door. His feet were moving in her direction before he was even conscious of it. Her breathing went shallow as he drew closer, his own doing the same. I’m in trouble. So much trouble. More than anything in the world, he wanted to drag her to his bed and go for round two, but she’d been too emotional earlier. She might not be ready yet. Plus, he didn’t know if it would count as their second lesson. In which case, this thing between them would be over faster.
“Are you good with everything we did? I need to know.”
“I am now.” She looked at his mouth, so he dipped closer, eliciting a barely audible gasp from Eliza. “Everything got a little muddled for a second.”
“Muddled. Yeah.” He settled his mouth over hers, but didn’t move it. Just let them breathe into one another’s mouths for long moments. If his tongue touched hers, it would be curtains. No question. With a rapidly dwindling will, he pulled back, even though his libido was shouting at him to press her back against the door and pound her senseless. Down boy. “You were amazing tonight. If things get muddled again, you call me. I’ll be there before you hang up the phone.”
For just a split second, she looked at him like they’d just met for the first time. It unnerved him. It…relieved him? He didn’t know, but it went away too quickly for his liking. “See you Saturday.”
She slipped out the door and was gone.
His apartment felt darker as he walked toward his bed.
Chapter Ten
Eliza and Caroline flopped back onto the plush, deep-purple lounger and clinked their red martinis together. They’d finished their dinner of sushi and sake, vowing more than once that they would head home after their next glass. True to form, however, they’d ended up stumbling their way over to Serve where a section had immediately been roped off for them in the lounge. Even though Caroline’s boyfriend, Jonah, hadn’t yet made his way downstairs to see them, his presence was felt all over the club. Eliza knew through Caroline that Jonah had cameras trained on every inch of the space and based on her friend’s continuous squirming, she could feel him watching right now.
Lifting her glass to her lips, Eliza surveyed the section they’d been given. It seemed less about convenience and more about keeping the male customers away from Caroline. And in turn, her. Another mark of Jonah’s presence. Eliza shrugged and took another sip of her drink, feeling relaxed for the first time since Tuesday. Tuesday with Oliver. Nothing could compare to the boneless contentment she’d felt following what they’d done in the shower. Would anything ever come close? Probably not. Unless they managed to top bound and blindfolded shower sex. God, she’d really underestimated how hard it would be to stay away from him until Saturday. Her body ached for him to fill it. Fully, relentlessly. Hard. Whenever memories of that night surfaced, the part she reacted to most was his pulling her hair, telling her he would whip the orgasm out of her. Even now, she had to cross her legs together tightly as the sound of his deep voice reverberated through her head.
Where was he tonight? Was he with someone else?
Stop it right there, Eliza. Wondering about such things was stupid and pointless. It was safe to assume Oliver had entertained himself this week with a dazzling array of gorgeous women, same as always. No reason for that to have changed just because they’d been together one single time. For all she knew, he’d been with another girl Tuesday night after she left. Which was totally his right. At the onset of this arrangement, they’d been clear about keeping things uncomplicated. She wanted uncomplicated. At least with Oliver. Oliver would take one look at complicated and disappear in a cloud of smoke. Relationship Houdini. Never to be seen or heard from again.
Still, she’d…loved the time they’d spent together. When she’d broken down in the bathroom, he’d been so solid and reassuring. Everything she’d needed and then some. She hadn’t seen that coming and it had obviously affected her somehow. Just like every matrimony-minded girl who left drool puddles in his wake, she’d actually let herself get spelled by Oliver Preston. Maybe he only says those things to me. Maybe I’m special. No doubt he’d put the same thoughts into the pretty heads of a legion of women. Women who’d woken up the next morning wondering if they’d dreamed up that man who’d been so caring and protective.
If anyone ever crosses that line, I’ll gladly kill them for you. Eliza shivered as the words drifted through her mind. She’d seen a new side to Oliver Tuesday night. Until now, she’d known him as the suave older brother, always good for a laugh and a confidence boost when he inevitably checked out her ass. Now, she wondered what she’d missed. He cooked, he soothed, he did a bang-on Mick Jagger impression. How the hell was she supposed to keep a level head around him? He played the field so often they’d named it after him. Get the stars out of your eyes.
She should be thinking about what lay on the other side of these lessons. Porter. She would go into her next encounter with the sexy Brit brimming with confidence. Knowledge. Even after only one encounter with Oliver, her self-assuredness had grown. This is what she’d been looking for and missing. There was no denying her need to be dominated now. Not after the height of pleasure she’d been driven to by submitting. She could already feel the need tangling up inside of her, needing to be unraveled. One question continued to plague her though. Would it feel the same when it wasn’t Oliver doing the unraveling?
Caroline elbowed her in the ribs. “Whatcha thinking ’bout?”
Boning your brother. God, she was a shitty friend. If she thought for a second Oliver would allow things to get weird, she never would have done this. But sex came as naturally to him as breathing. She was just another necessary pull of oxygen that would be replaced in his next breath. Caroline would never know about them because they would never matter. Furthermore, Eliza didn’t want her to know. Her chief concern would be Eliza getting hurt by Oliver, which wouldn’t be happening. Ever. As long as she kept her head on straight and remembered the score. Attempting to douse the fire in her throat, Eliza downed her drink in one go. “I’m thinking we need to update the décor in this place,” she lied. “You’re the first lady of Serve now. You need to put your mark on it.”
Caroline pursed her lips thoughtfully as she surveyed the lounge. The interior was sleek, monochromatic. Grays, blacks and purples suited the sexual energy of the place perfectly, every surface soft and inviting. A place to meet and proposition your next partner. Possibly even get started what would finish with a trip upstairs on one of Serve’s three levels. Waitresses moved with sensual grace through couples and groups of patrons, offering drinks with a practiced purr. Behind them, the bar was packed full of Manhattanites, looking for a Friday night assignation.
“What did you have in mind?” Caroline asked, breaking into her thoughts again. “Maybe some nice house plants? Ooh, do you think Jonah would let me have a hammock?”
“I think Jonah would give you whatever you want.”
Caroline hummed into her drink. “It goes both ways.” She signaled the waitress for two more drinks. “Just a head’s up, he’s going to ask you to redecorate the brownstone. Gabby is going to be staying with us more, and we want the place kid-friendly.”
Eliza smiled at the mention of Jonah’s daughter of whom he’d only recently been granted joint custody. She was nine years old and a total pistol. “No more implements of torture lying around?”
“We save that for upstairs.” Caroline grinned. “Speaking of which, you were here the other night, weren’t you? On a date with Gavin Rossdale’s doppelganger?”
She wanted to smack herself in the forehead, but somehow resisted. Of course, Jonah would have mentioned to Caroline that she’d been at the club. B
ut wait. He hadn’t told her about Oliver and the kiss they’d shared? In plain view of one of several cameras? Interesting. She struggled to remember what Caroline had asked her. Porter…right. “It went well. We’re planning on seeing each other soon.” As soon as Oliver made that phone call.
Caroline did a double take. “What? That’s all I get? It went well.”
“I-uh…” Your brother interrupted us. Shower sex. Mick Jagger. Ouzo. An almost-kiss that blew my mind almost as much as the sex. “It’s complicated?”
“Sweetheart.” Jonah’s distinct voice behind her was like the bell going off for recess, saving her from a pop quiz. An interruption had never been more appreciated. She sunk back against the armrest of the lounger as Jonah picked up Caroline and settled her back on his lap. Her friend was still glaring at her though, over the rim of her martini. You’re not off the hook, she mouthed at Eliza. Then her friend’s mouth became otherwise occupied as Jonah guided it down to meet his. He plucked the martini from Caroline’s hand and handed it to Eliza, without breaking contact, sliding his tongue into his girlfriend’s mouth with a groan.
Sheesh. Eliza tried to look at the ceiling, but her gaze kept returning to the passionate couple. Was it acceptable to be turned on by your friends’ frequent, often inappropriate public displays of affection? Cause, she kind of was.
Finally, Jonah pulled back. After a long, meaningful look at Caroline, he sent Eliza a wink. “Hey, you. We have business to discuss.”
She saluted him with her empty glass. “I’d be happy to redecorate the brownstone, as long as you’re aware I’ll be upping your fee for traveling to Brooklyn.” She smiled to let him know she was joking. “Although if we’re talking kid friendly, not making out in front of her might be a good place to start.”
“We’re working on it,” Caroline said, sounding a little dazed. “We could probably work harder.”
Jonah smiled indulgently, but it dimmed when his gaze landed on something just beyond her shoulder. Eliza turned to find Porter standing at the velvet rope, his attention trained on her. Dressed in all black, he looked unbelievable. Like he’d just stepped off the pages of some European yacht advertisement. Not a stitch of clothing or hair out of place. Every time she’d been in the vicinity of him since they’d met, she’d always felt a tickle of lust in her belly. This time, the appreciation seemed to be more objective than anything. Odd, since she’d never seen him looking hotter.
A shot of urgency invaded her musings when she remembered Caroline knew they’d been on a date. But she didn’t know Oliver had nixed it. If Porter mentioned what happened in front of Caroline, she would have a hundred follow up questions Eliza had no desire to answer. Quickly, she hopped to her feet, swaying a little under the influence of five sake bombs and a martini.
Porter offered his arm for balance, and she took it. “Hey. Hi.”
Smooth.
“Eliza,” he returned in his even, cultured voice. “Out for a few drinks, are we?”
“A few might be a slight under exaggeration.” She held her fingers up in the international symbol of just a pinch. “I had a long work week and figured I earned it.”
“I see.” His gaze swept her head to toe. “Pity you drank so much. I would have liked to continue what we started last week. Need you a touch more sober for that, I’m afraid.”
“I would have liked that too,” she responded, a little flustered over his bluntness. If she sounded less-than-convinced, it had to be the alcohol. “Soon, I hope.” After I finish my lessons with Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor, and I’m pawned off on you like a college student graduating into the work force.
The imagery hit her like an open-handed smack. Made her feel as if Oliver had already left her. Feeling the sudden need to prove she’d be fine once that happened, Eliza tossed her hair over her shoulder and gave Porter what she hoped was a seductive look. “I’m really looking forward to it.”
He swirled the amber liquid contained in the rocks glass he held, considering her with a discerning look. “Something is different about you.”
Eliza squashed the urge to tug her dress down. “Here’s hoping you find out what it is.”
He leaned in close, and she caught a whiff of his spicy, designer cologne. Good Lord, the man smelled like pleasure. It was almost criminal. “Whatever it is, I like it.” He grazed his stubbled cheek against hers, making goose bumps break out along her skin. “Soon, Eliza.”
She nodded once to let him know she’d heard him but didn’t trust herself to speak. Not because she was overwhelmingly turned on, even if she could admit to feeling a definite spark of heat in her stomach. No, she couldn’t speak because her chest felt compressed, like it did before a crying jag.
She actually felt…guilty. Almost as if she’d been doing something wrong by flirting with Porter. That simply, simply wouldn’t do. No more thinking about Oliver and how he didn’t merely produce a spark inside her, he set off a wealth of firecrackers. Every time she compared Porter to Oliver, she was setting herself up for a huge fall. This is good. This is a wake-up call.
Or she could just call it off. Right now. Tonight.
Refusing to explore the empty, gaping pit that notion opened in her stomach, Eliza turned on a heel and sat back down on the lounger. She ignore the curious looks both Jonah and Caroline gave her, accepting a fresh drink from the waitress. “So. Let’s talk color scheme.”
Chapter Eleven
Oliver wore a tux like a motherfucker.
Call him arrogant, call him whatever you like. At age eight, he’d been tapped to play ring bearer at his aunt’s wedding. He’d slipped the jacket on in front of the hotel’s full length mirror and felt like he’d finally become a man. Then he’d promptly called for his mother to help him fix the bow tie.
Tonight, he really needed the confidence provided by his favorite form of attire, because over the course of the week, he’d started to feel very un-Oliver. He’d passed two nights at the office, working overtime on the scholarship program in his mother’s name. The perfect applicant had even come across his desk. Francesca De Luca from Queens. Frankie for short. She lived in a two-bedroom house with her uncle and drove a cab for a living, attending night class at the local community college when she could, not the usual course of education for someone who’d scored sixteen hundred on their SATs. At age twenty-four, she’d only managed to accumulate one third of the credits she needed for a business degree.
He’d placed two calls to her since coming across her application and held out hope she’d be the first recipient in the program. But even as important as the project was to him, his thoughts had been on a gorgeous blonde and her apparent lack of urgency to see him again. Finally, last night he’d given in and gone to one of his regular night clubs. His goal had been to distract himself, remind himself of the options available to him. Before he’d taken a sip of his first drink, he’d been sent three from various corners of the bar and asked to dance by a redhead who bore a vague resemblance to Emma Stone.
He’d felt claustrophobic, like he’d woken up in a carnival fun house without any memory of how he’d gotten there. Everyone had looked distorted, their voices too loud. He’d started noticing that the lyrics in the loud, pumping music didn’t even make sense. His clothes felt itchy along with the back of his neck. He’d mumbled some excuse about finding a friend and walked out of the club without a backward glance. Now, as he climbed out of the backseat of the town car that had driven him uptown to the venue, he found himself scanning the sidewalk for sight of her. Which was ridiculous, since she would be inside, right? He just wanted to be sure. He was that desperate to get eyes on her.
Fuck that, he wanted everything on her. Eyes, hands, mouth. The poor girl had no idea what was coming through those doors. She’d left him to roast for four days and now he was overcooked. If he made it an hour at this goddamn gala without dragging her to the nearest dark corner to screw her into a stupor, he’d be shocked. He was already hard just thinking about gripping
those mouthwatering curves and telling her in vivid detail what a cock tease she was. Giving him a taste, then vanishing for the better part of a week. Honestly, it was outright torture.
He declined the coat check with a smile and walked toward the opulent ballroom. The girl working the door in a headset didn’t ask him for an invitation or check his name against the list she was holding, she simply waved him through with a nervous laugh. All right, this is what I’m talking about. Guys who could rock a tux well enough to forgo security measures didn’t get possible crushes. They walked in like they owned the joint and let the girl come to him. Much better. No more un-Oliver.
Confidence intact, he breezed into the opulent ballroom, immediately being swallowed by buzzing conversation, semi-darkness, elegant music being played by a ten piece band in the corner of the room. Taller than most, he could see over the top of the milling crowd, his gaze landing on Eliza as if she’d called his name.
Good Lord. His breath felt trapped in his lungs, feet glued to the floor. Like that dream where you see something you want but have no way of reaching it. Eliza stood in the room’s center, near the dance floor, talking to an older woman over a champagne flute. She had to be the only person in the room wearing white. It made her stand out, like someone had trained a spot light on her. The dress was short, but the material loose, making it modest and an ungodly degree of sexy at the same time. Her front was covered entirely, but a sequined strap went down the middle of her almost completely bared back, connecting to the material just above her ass. It showed off two dimples he hadn’t yet had the chance to explore and it pissed him off mightily to know that. To know other men were seeing the perfection of her back for the first time, same as him. He tore his attention away from her back and traveled the long length of her legs, accentuated by silver stiletto heels. Remembering how tight those legs had squeezed his bucking hips, he had to look away or his below the belt predicament would become obvious to everyone around him. Especially if he took an eye out.