Manic Monday

by Piper Rayne

  “Logan doesn’t think so.” She rolls her eyes.

  “Well, then I guess he’s going to miss out, huh?” I wink.

  “You winked like Reed,” she squeals.

  “He must be wearing off on me.”

  I haven’t dated over the past two years, so there’s been no one I’ve had to talk to Jade about. No one that would penetrate our bubble, but Reed is slowly breaking past that hard, protective exterior I wrapped around us.

  “Can we talk, Bug?” I ask, tears already threatening to spill.

  “We are talking, Mommy,” she says, literal as always.

  “Yes, we are, but I want to talk to you about Reed.”

  “I like him.” She bites one of her chicken nuggets.

  “Me, too.”

  “I didn’t like you going out with him just you two.” Her lips tip down and she stares at me.

  “You know adults sometimes do things on their own.”

  “Not you and Reed. You guys take us with you.” She sips her milk and I press the remote to turn off the small television in the kitchen to stop her wandering eyes. “Mom,” she pleads.

  “We do take you and Henry with us, but things with Reed are…”

  “I know, Mom.” Her hand moves toward the remote, but I slide it away out of her grasp.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, you and Reed need privacy. Jamie told me that her parents need privacy and so they lock the door on Saturday night and she can’t get in until they open it on Sunday.” My eyes widen, but she carries on. “Is he going to be my second daddy?”

  “No, Bug. That’s not what I’m saying. But I do like Reed and we like to spend time with you, but also just the two of us.”

  “You like a two-way?” she asks.

  God help me.

  “I want to get to know Reed better,” I say.

  “Like what his favorite game is?”

  I shrug, a smile tugging on my lips. “Yeah and to see if I like spending time with him when it’s just us two.”

  “Like play together. Logan likes basketball. I told him I like the monkey bars.”

  “Kind of like that, yes.”

  “Why don’t you just ask him questions?”

  I notice she’s running out of ranch dip and needing something to do other than listening to my seven-year-old give me dating advice, I busy myself with the task.

  “I do, but the best way to get to know someone is by spending time with them.”

  “You keep saying spending time, Mommy, but you mean playing, right?”

  I bite my lip. “Sure, if you want to call it that.”

  I work really hard not to let my mind drift off with all the playing we could do.

  “I’m going to go out with him tomorrow night.” I squirt more ranch dip on her plate and then return it to the fridge.

  “What if he likes the same things as you?”

  Maybe I’m doing this all wrong, but I’ve never done this before.

  “Well, he doesn’t have to like all the same stuff I do. It can be okay to like different things.”

  “So, I can have a crush on Logan even if he likes to play basketball and I like the monkey bars?” Her face is so serious it’s hard not to laugh. Part of me wishes I would have recorded our conversation so I could replay it for her when she’s older.

  “Most of the time you’ll find that it’s your heart that tells you who you like.”

  She glances down to where her heart is. “My heart doesn’t speak to me.”

  Yep, I’m lost. No GPS, lost in the middle of nowhere making a bunch of left turns with not a soul in sight. Damn it.

  “Your heart doesn’t speak, it feels, Bug.”

  Again, her head falls down, staring at her heart. “I feel nothing.”

  Trying to lead us back to the main road I try a different route. “You say you love me.”

  She shrugs. “You’re my mom.”

  “You love Grandma?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Daddy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Henry?”

  “Ew. No. I like Henry.”

  “You’ve only known Henry for a few weeks, but what if you remain friends for years? Then you might love him.”

  She shrugs and from the lost look in her eyes, I see this conversation is going nowhere.

  “Forget all that. I wanted to let you know that I’m going to Reed’s tomorrow night and Grandma is watching you. You can pick what you want to do together on Sunday.”

  I take her dish since she’s done.

  “Can I watch television now?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  She runs into the other room and I rinse her plate, placing it in the dishwasher. My stomach is empty, and my craving for chocolate is in high gear over the conversation with Jade and the fact that in twenty-four hours I could be naked in front of—or under—Reed Warner.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The next day after a long day at work, I walk through the rotating glass doors of Reed’s condo building. I realize now, that his condo is right downtown which means it’s so far out of his way to take Henry to school it’s ridiculous.

  “Ms. Clarke?” a man behind the desk asks me, standing up in what I assume is a doorman uniform.

  “Victoria.”

  His crooked teeth emerge with a smile. “Mr. Warner informed us of your visit.” He rounds the corner and presses the up button on the elevator.

  Does everyone get this treatment?

  “Thank you for the warm welcome.” I’m not sure what else to say since I’m unused to this kind of thing.

  He chuckles quietly like we’re in a library.

  “We’ve always got an eye on what’s going on around here,” he says and motions to the ceiling behind me.

  I glance around to find cameras in every corner. Seconds later the elevator arrives and the doorman steps in, scans a card, and presses the button.

  “When the doors open, step out and then knock three times, click your heels together and use one hand to pat your head while the other rubs your tummy.”

  He laughs at his own joke and I lean in to check out his badge. Connor.

  The elevator dings as we reach Reed’s floor and the doors slide open.

  “I’m only kidding,” he says. “Mr. Warner will be waiting for you. Enjoy your evening.”

  I step out and the door shuts behind me. Suddenly, fear washes over me as I think of what this night could bring.

  The elevator didn’t take nearly as long as I needed it to and I slowly proceed down the hall, the plush carpet absorbing the sound of my heels. Soon I’m face to face with apartment number 1801. A gold plaque is secured to the outside of the door and it reminds me more of something you’d see in an office tower rather than a residential condo.

  Pulling out my phone before I knock, I check out my teeth for the millionth time, finger my hair into position after the beating it took from the Chicago wind and pink my cheeks to give them a little color.

  I’ve just finished taking inventory of myself when the door springs open and a mouth-watering Reed stands in the doorway.

  “Hi,” I say, turning off my phone and tucking it inside my purse.

  “Hey, glad you found me.” He steps to the side, his arm extended inviting me in.

  “It’s like breaking into a bank.” I accept his invitation and try to keep my mouth from falling open in appreciation of the marble floors in the foyer.

  From his address, I knew he was in the gold coast and when the taxi pulled up outside, I knew the condo would be on a level I was not familiar with. But marble floors, windows that span from one corner to the next and overlook Lake Michigan?

  “Sorry, they take security pretty seriously here.”

  The click of the lock has me turning to see him strolling toward me. He slides my purse from my shoulder and drops it on the big round table in the foyer.

  “Jeez, Reed, you couldn’t afford the penthouse?” I joke following him into the apartment and
to the kitchen.

  “There’s a retired basketball player up there.” His voice doesn’t hold the sarcasm mine did.

  “I was kidding.”

  He glances up at me through his long eyelashes. “This was in my family. It’s convenient to the courthouse and the office.” He shrugs and goes back to the meal prep he must have been doing before I arrived.

  “You must dread Mondays.” I toe out of my heels and meet him in the kitchen.

  His knife pauses mid-cucumber and he waits for me to focus on him. “It’s the best day of the week.”

  I blush, wanting to hip check him out of the way so I can have something to do with my hands, keep me busy and prevent me from making a fool of myself.

  “So, there’s chicken and potatoes in the oven, and I’m just finishing with the salad.”

  “I’m impressed.” I open the oven door and bend down to inspect his skills.

  The room spins and fades in and out, my head feels heavy on my shoulders. I feel myself pitch forward, everything in my sight coming in flashes before I feel my hip hit the floor and blackness overtakes me.

  “Victoria.” Soft knuckles drag down my face. “Vic.”

  My eyes flutter open with some effort and Reed’s face hovers over mine.

  Oh my God, I didn’t, did I?

  “What happened?” I ask, already cringing because I think I know what he’s going to say.

  “You passed out.”

  Oh my God. How mortifying.

  “Do you feel sick? Are you diabetic? Heart problems?” he asks in rapid-fire succession.

  I giggle from embarrassment because it’s my go-to mechanism to hide what I really don’t want to tell him.

  I sit up on his comfortable gray couch. How did I get all the way over here? “No. I just…”

  He sits on the coffee table in front of me, his eyes concerned, his hands on my thighs as he waits for me to finish.

  “I was on a detox cleanse this week.” My voice is soft and purposely low in the hopes he hears anything else and whatever it might be, I’ll go with it.

  He sits back, one corner of his lips tipping down. “Why?”

  I draw my legs up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. Reed stands and heads over to the kitchen.

  I hear the oven open and a dish pulled from the cupboard. A plate put on the counter. Silverware scraping, and I don’t have it in me to turn around and see what he’s doing or get up to help him. I’ll just sit on his couch and act like I didn’t completely ruin our date by passing out on his kitchen floor.

  “You didn’t hit your head, thank goodness,” he says from the kitchen. “I was able to slide catch you before that happened. When’s the last time you ate?”

  “I had a salad for lunch.”

  “And?”

  His voice grows closer and I loosen my legs, crossing them on the couch, still not ready to get up.

  “A smoothie for breakfast.”

  He sits back down on the coffee table holding a plate with chicken, potatoes, and some salad on it, a bottle of water tucked under his arm.

  “How many days have you been doing this?”

  I peek up. “Five.” My voice is so timid it reminds me of when my dad would hover over me as a teenager and ask me why I snuck out. There was no good answer other than I thought it was a brilliant plan until I slid in through my window to find him on my bed expecting me.

  Now it’s Reed waiting for my answer to another brilliant plan that left me dead weight on his kitchen floor.

  I watch his hands maneuver the fork and knife like the well-groomed man he was trained to be as a boy. Moments later a fork with chicken on it rests before my lips. “Eat.”

  Not about to fight him on this, I open my mouth and take the piece of chicken from the fork, letting him feed me like a child.

  “I’m really okay. Let’s eat at the table.”

  “You’re not getting off that couch until this entire plate is gone.” He raises his eyebrows daring me to challenge him.

  And have a little just-ate belly when I get naked? No thanks. My stomach growls in protest.

  I take a few more mouthfuls and say, “Only a few more. Really I’m good.”

  “No, I need you to have energy.” He holds a fork full of salad in front of my lips.

  Before I can open and accept his offering a drop of salad dressing drips on my blouse. The new expensive blouse I just bought from a boutique I can’t really afford.

  “Uh,” the sound escapes me.

  “Sorry.” He looks it over. “Let me get something to clean that.”

  He stands from the coffee table and I follow him into the kitchen where he has a dishrag ready with the tip wet. I hold my hands out for him to give it to me at the same time his finger moves toward the stain.

  Ignoring me, his finger gently touches my shirt, but in order to clean the stain, he needs something to press against. Unless I want his hand under my shirt, which I do, but not necessarily to work out a stain, I need to take the dishtowel from him.

  He allows me, and I dab the stain even though I know that the salad dressing will have oil in it and more than likely I’ll never wear this blouse again.

  “I’m sorry.” He bites his lower lip and the sight has heat building between my legs.

  “It’s okay.” I put the dishtowel on the kitchen counter, giving up hope.

  “Can we start over?” he asks, his arms sliding down on either side of my hips.

  “Please.” I stare up at him, loving the transformation from timid, unsure eyes to his lust-filled gaze.

  “I’ve been wanting you alone for so long, I’m nervous.” His body inches forward and I draw in a breath.

  “Are we being honest?” I ask.

  “Yes. Nothing you tell me will change the way I feel.”

  “I went on the detox cleanse because I’m scared of you seeing me naked,” I say the words fast and in succession as if somehow, they won’t be as embarrassing that way.

  Confusion transforms his features and then a tentative smile reaches his lips. “You’re gorgeous, why would you worry about that?” He moves another inch closer and I close my eyes to find my equilibrium.

  “Have you ever been with a woman who had a baby?” My head tilts and his smirk grows wider.

  “I haven’t.”

  I nod. “See, the body does all these things to prepare a woman for motherhood and they’re not sexy, Reed. Not by a long shot.”

  He grabs my hips, hoisting me up onto the counter. “You’re sexy as hell, Vic, and I want to show you exactly how sexy you are to me.” His hands run along my inner thighs, parting them for him.

  I lick my lips in anticipation.

  His fingers unbutton the top button of my blouse. “We should probably get this dry cleaned.” He undoes another button and the back of his knuckles brush against my skin, making me draw in a ragged breath. More buttons come undone and he leans forward pressing his soft lips to my chest while his hands finish their handy work and he pulls the blouse open for his viewing pleasure.

  “Reed,” I sigh, sliding my hand across my stomach—the part of me I’m most insecure about.

  The stretch marks Jade left me are now thin and white. Not horribly noticeable but evidence that my body once held a child and that I’m not an unmarred twenty-year-old.

  “Please, Victoria, you’re beautiful and I want to cherish you.” His lips cast kisses along the swell of one breast slowly moving to my other. Just as my eyes are closing and my mind empties of all the doubts about me being enough for him, his hands slide me forward and I’m wrapped around him like a koala bear. “I’ll feed you the rest after.”

  He carries me down the hall and I can’t help but sprinkle kisses along his defined jawline and suck his earlobe into my mouth. The bulge in his pants teases me as he stops in the middle of the hallway and presses my back to the wall, his lips claiming mine.

  Our kiss is ravenous and urgent, our mouths colliding, fighting for dominance. All the worries
that consumed my mind the entire week, disappear with his demanding kiss. I’m not thinking about the stretch marks. I’m not thinking about my wider hips or my breasts that aren’t as perky as they were pre-pregnancy. I just want more. More of Reed Warner.

  “Never diet again,” he says through noisy kisses. “Especially for me.”

  I say nothing, taking his cheeks in my hands and bringing his face to mine so our lips can crash together again.

  Stepping back from the wall, he continues down the hall. When he steps us into his bedroom, it’s obvious a bachelor lives here with its dark wood and grey linens. There’s another set of windows that look out over the Chicago skyline.

  For the first time in a long time, hope blooms inside me and I wonder if happily ever afters really can come true.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Reed didn’t toss me on the bed as his hungry eyes suggested he might but laid me gently down as he stared at me while stripping off his t-shirt.

  His love arrow might as well have blinked in neon, pointing me to what was mine to explore tonight. His muscles weren’t bulging out, but they were defined and flexed with every movement he made.

  I sat up on the edge of the bed before he had a chance to cover me with his body. My body yearned to feel us skin to skin. To roll around in his high-thread-count sheets, exploring and teasing one another.

  My fingers tremble as I take the button of his jeans in hand. I watch him watch me with smoldering eyes as I free the button. He sucks in a small breath through his already taut smile as I lower the zipper, and a low groan rumbles out of his mouth. I kiss the skin right above the waistband of his boxers as I slide his jeans down to a puddle on the floor.

  His turgid erection presses against my chin, making me eager to taste him. I slide my hand up his thigh, over the top of his boxers, taking his length in my palm and pressing against his hardness.

  “You’re playing with fire,” he says and when I rest my chin on his stomach, staring up at him with hooded eyes, he takes my face in his hands. “I’m going to explode if you continue.”

  At a painfully slow pace, his hands slide down my shoulders, grabbing my own hands and pulling me up to my feet. “I need to see you.”