Unlocking Love

by Anya Sharpe

  “Good morning,” I whisper. Our eyes, mere inches apart, are locked on each other’s. It’s an extremely intimate moment. One I don’t recall sharing often with Derrick.

  “I love having you in my bed. Waking up to you.” He offers me an easy smile, making those stomach things flutter again, then tenderly caresses my face with the back of his hand.

  “It’s a pretty great place to wake up.”

  We’re lying close to each other, but he pulls me in tighter. I secretly love the press of his erection against my thigh. Something stirs in me.

  “Oh, hell, I need you again.” Without missing a beat, he rolls me onto my back and plunges deep. I wrap my legs tight around him.

  “Jesus, woman. I can’t get enough of you.” He’s throbbing and thrusting hard into me and, surprisingly—without any real foreplay—my orgasm quickly builds, hitting within minutes.

  “Oh, Evan…it’s…” I’m speechless. The intensity steals my words and my breath, leaving me gasping.

  “Babe… Oh, babe…” I can actually feel his climax as it begins to flood me.

  Bang!

  “What the fuck is that?” Evan’s still thrusting and coming as we both hear loud noises in the living room. He’s gripping me hard, torn between his current state and the ruckus in the other the other room.

  He emits a lusty groan into my ear.

  “Hey man, get your ass outta bed.” The door flings open and in walks Lance.

  “Oh, shit, man!” Lance gapes and stares at the two of us. Well, mostly Evan’s ass, which I’m sure is pretty much the focal point right now. Lance’s feet appear cemented to the floor. Somehow, I find amusement in this predicament.

  Evan grasps the sheet, quickly covering us—mainly me.

  “Ever hear of knocking, asshole?”

  I burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles at the ridiculous situation.

  “I, uh…” Lance stammers. The paleness of his cheeks has brightened into a few stunning shades of red.

  “Leave. The. Room.” Evan bellows at his stricken friend, and Lance dutifully turns, exits and pulls the door closed behind him.

  “You! What the hell is so funny?” Evan can’t help but laugh now too. Tears are rolling down my face. He yanks me into an embrace and kisses me sweetly, which calms my laughter.

  “In all my life, Evan, I will never forget Lance’s expression,” I say, recovering.

  “Yeah. Definitely was priceless.” He gets up and digs around for some sweats in his dresser, tossing me a pair along with a T-shirt. “We left your bag out there,” he says, as they land on the bed. “I’ll go yell at my former best friend while you slip those on.” He winks and steps out.

  “How was I supposed to know you’d be doing the naughty with Erynne first thing in the morning?” A sheepish Lance is being grilled by Evan when I come into the living room.

  “Morning, Lance. Nice to see you.” I walk right up to him and kiss him on the cheek.

  “Oh, hell, Erynne. I’m so sorry.” He can’t look me in the eye, and Evan’s shoulders are bouncing up and down in silent laughter.

  “Uh, Evan, you told me the penthouse key doesn’t open your front door. Anything you want to tell me?”

  “I lied. It’s dual-purpose.”

  “Why didn’t you say so to begin with?”

  “I thought you might refuse to take it.”

  I scrunch up my face in confusion.

  “I thought it would…I dunno…keep you from using it. I wanted you to be able to get to me if you needed someone,” he confesses.

  “Aw.” I consider what he’s told me. “I think you’re right. I should give the key back. I don’t want to walk in on you at an…inappropriate time.”

  “Like I did?” Lance offers helpfully. Evan looks like he wants to punch him.

  I blush. “Perhaps.”

  The thought of Evan frolicking in the sheets with another woman makes my stomach drop down about ten floors. I’m studying the marble tile floor at this point, unable to make eye contact with either Lance or Evan.

  “Oh, hell no,” Evan declares. “Excuse, us, Lance. Go brew some coffee. Be useful.” He grabs my hand and drags me into his bedroom, slams the door and pushes me to the edge of the bed, making me sit next to him.

  For several seconds it’s quiet, while Evan gathers his thoughts. He scrubs his face with one hand—the other maintaining its firm grip on mine—and blows out a heavy breath. Then he turns toward me, capturing my chin with both of his hands.

  “Erynne. Let me make this extraordinarily clear.” His words are precise and clipped, though it’s obvious he is anything but angry.

  I start to say something, and he shakes his head.

  “Let me finish.”

  I nod staying focused on him.

  “There will be no other women in my bed. You won’t be walking in on any ‘inappropriate’ moments, because you will be underneath me when those moments take place.” Then, he smirks. “Lance won’t be able to conceive children if he ever busts in here unannounced again.”

  “Oh.”

  “As for the key. Keep it. I expect you to show up unannounced whenever you want to, which will be rare, because you’ll be here with me an awful lot.” His smile is devilishly cute. “Any objections, gorgeous?”

  “Uh…can’t think of one.” Truth be told, I can’t think of much right now. I’m busy absorbing everything he said. The words are sinking in about as slowly as floodwaters on the baked, hard desert floor.

  We reemerge from the bedroom to the aroma of strong coffee brewing in quiet of the apartment. Lance seems to have vanished. He likely took the opportunity to get the hell out of Dodge before Evan could give him a good ass-chewing.

  “I guess we chased him away. At least he made the coffee before he left.” Evan pours two mugs, preparing mine the way I prefer without asking. I try not to make comparisons, but to this day Derrick couldn’t tell you how I like my coffee.

  “I doubt that. He probably thought we were watching the game today. Bet he went for beer, figuring you’d leave while he was gone.”

  “Oh.” Once again, a wave of awkwardness hits me. I’ve overstayed my welcome. “Then, I guess I’d better…”

  “Sit your pretty little ass next to me.” He tugs me to the sofa and we plop down. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Hey, Evan. Is Erynne still here?” Lance comes through the door with a large bag in hand.

  “Yes. Of course. I’m not running her off, asshole.” He winks at me and squeezes my hand.

  “Good.” He drops the bag on the coffee table. “Bagels. Help yourselves.” He shuffles into Evan’s kitchen.

  “Thanks, Lance,” I say.

  “I hoped you’d still be here. For two reasons.” Lance makes an extraordinary amount of noise for someone simply pouring a cup of coffee.

  “Oh? Why?” I take a sip of heavenly java. “Mmm.”

  Evan’s eyebrow lifts at the moan. “I like the sounds you make,” he whispers into my ear, making me blush.

  Lance collapses into a chair and rips open the bag of bagels, grabbing an onion pre-schmeared with cream cheese. With his mouth mostly full, he says, “Well, I went to get breakfast,” he gestures to the motherlode on the table. “And, the elevator stopped at your floor on the way down.”

  “So?” Evan asks reaching for a bagel with the works.

  “Dante Gregorius was knocking on your door.”

  Evan’s head snaps up like he’d been shot in the ass with a BB gun. “What?”

  “Yeah. It was kinda weird. I held the door for him, but he didn’t even notice the elevator had arrived. I watched him for a second. He slipped some kind of note under your door. When he turned around, he tried to act like he wasn’t surprised to see me. Got on the elevator and pretended he hadn’t done anything unusual. Started whistling and checking out his phone. Didn’t even say hi.” Lance shrugs his shoulders and loads up his mouth with another huge bite.

  “Where are your keys, Eryn
ne?”

  “On the table. Why? What are you doing?”

  “Going to get the note.”

  I stand. “I’ll go.”

  “Nah. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  A few awkward moments ensue between Lance and I until he finally speaks—increasing the awkwardness.

  “Look, Erynne…”

  I wave my hand in a gesture that says, “Forget about it.”

  “No. I’m sorry I burst in on you guys. It never occurred to me that you and Evan would be…” He’s searching the ceiling for his next words.

  “It’s all right, really…”

  “No. It’s not. I come and go all the time. I’ve never walked in on him and a woman. In any state of dress.”

  Wow. That makes me feel kinda good. I must appear quite surprised, because he’s grinning at me.

  “Don’t get me wrong. Evan’s been known to date, but…I’ve never seen him bring anyone home. At least since he’s lived here, and that’s been more than a year.”

  You gotta love best friends. You want to know something about someone, best friends are a fountain of information. Especially when they’re on a guilt trip.

  I clear my throat. “Well…” While I search for something appropriate to say, two things happen.

  Lance says, “Evan’s had a thing for you for months, you know…”

  No sooner does he spill those beans, than the guy in question returns from my apartment, stalling the conversation.

  “What did you find?” I ask him.

  “A note to you from Dante.” Evan isn’t pleased. Pissed would be more accurate. I hold out my hand. Reluctantly, he hands the paper to me. Then proceeds to pace the room, running his hands through his freaking awesome dark hair and mumbling as if he’s trying to make a life decision.

  Unfolding the note, I study the small, neat printing and a signature made of tall, thin, unintelligible strokes. If it weren’t written on personalized stationery, I would have no clue who wrote it. I read the note out loud.

  Dearest Erin -

  I was ever so pleased to meet you in the elevator. It is unconscionable we’ve been neighbors for months and never met. I do apologize for such unneighborly manners.

  Please allow me to rectify this circumstance. Do me the honor of dining with me on my terrace at sunset tonight. It will be a pleasure to host such a delightfully beautiful woman on what is certain to be a lovely evening.

  I hope 7 p.m. will work for you.

  Until then, I anxiously await your presence,

  (Unreadable signature beginning with a large, bold ‘D’ followed by a series of vertical and horizontal lines that look like they came off a heart monitor)

  “Holy shit. Is he serious? What is this? ‘Downton Abbey’?” I shout at no one in particular. “What a load of bullshit.”

  I stare at Lance and Evan, who are now doubled over in laughter.

  “What? What’s so funny?”

  “I do say, your reaction to His Royal Highness’ invitation was most exhilarating.” Evan’s teasing comes to an abrupt halt when his expression turns serious, and he can’t meet my gaze, his jaw visibly clenching. “So, what are you wearing to this soiree?”

  I stare at him. My mouth goes dry. He’s jealous?

  “What makes you think I want to accept his invitation?”

  He steps closer to me.

  “You don’t?”

  “No.” I blink back tears trying to form. Why is he asking me this question? Perhaps Lance is wrong about Evan. And me. “So…maybe I’d better be going…” Spinning around, I locate the small bag I brought last night. “I’ll, um, get these clothes back to you,” I say heading for the door.

  I make it two steps before my arm is encircled by a strong hand.

  “Wait. Don’t go.”

  Lance clears his throat. “Yeah. I’m outta here.”

  Neither of us acknowledges him as he leaves the apartment. Our eyes are glued to each other.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d want to go. The note pissed me off. As you were reading, I started to think…”

  “What exactly did you think, Evan? I’m ready to start bed-hopping now that my divorce is final?” My stomach is tangled in knots. Clearly, I misread the connection I thought there was between us last night and this morning—not to mention what he told me minutes ago in his bedroom.

  “No. I worry I barged ahead and laid claim to you. Without your agreement. Without ‘that’ conversation.” He’s back to pacing the floor, shoving his hand through his hair.

  “What conversation do you want to have with me, Evan?” A shiver runs down my spine.

  He stops pacing right smack in front of me and places a hand on the side of my face, his eyes searching.

  “The one where I tell you that you are the only woman I want. I want you in my life and by my side. Permanently. Only you.

  “One. Hundred. Percent.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Evan

  “What are you saying, Evan?” She whispers, blinking at me with those amazing eyes.

  Should I tell her?

  Bare my soul?

  Take the chance?

  I start with the safer words.

  “I want an exclusive relationship with you. It may be soon for you, but…” I’m breathing heavily, and anxiety inside me builds to a crescendo. Then, I cave.

  “Dammit, Erynne! I’m fucking in love with you!” I shout my frustrated confession.

  The silence is deafening. She’s staring at me. I’m staring at her. The Earth has ceased rotating. The birds have stopped singing.

  Time is standing still.

  “What did you say?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but she may as well be shouting.

  “I love you.”

  She takes four steps forward. I count every single one. As I tower over her petite form, she tilts her head up and raises a hand. I brace for the sting of her slap.

  It never comes.

  Instead, she strokes the side of my face, rises onto her toes, closes her eyes, and places a soft, barely-there kiss on my mouth.

  Just one.

  My gut is twisting. She may not have slapped me, but I’m bracing for the words she is going to speak. Her rejection will burn a hole inside me.

  “I can’t return those words, Evan…” she says slowly, quietly, her gaze never breaking from mine.

  “I know.” My heart weighs a thousand pounds.

  Her finger presses against my lips and the edges of her mouth lift ever so slightly, her eyes sparkling. “Yet.” The smile grows. “I’m working on it, Ace.”

  “Holy fucking hell.” The Earth is back on its axis. Things are spinning, chirping, moving. “Kiss me, gorgeous.”

  I haul her body into mine.

  ****

  On the short ride down to the nineteenth floor, I have to touch her. Anywhere will do. Hands, arm, waist, lips, hair. I’m desperate for any physical connection.

  She unlocks the door, and we step into the silence of her sparsely furnished apartment. It doesn’t feel like “her,” which makes me sad.

  “Dante,” I say, instead of commenting on the impersonal decor. “What do you want to do about him? I’m pretty sure he’s expecting you in his lair at seven o’clock.”

  Erynne glares at the crumpled stationery she’s holding.

  “Well. I think I’ll leave him a note. Under his door,” she says simply. I trail behind like the lovesick puppy that I am into her office. Pen in hand, she begins writing. After a few succinct sentences, she stands, grins and hands me the note.

  Dante—

  Thank you for the kind invitation to dinner. I must extend my sincere apologies. As you know, I’m in a serious relationship with Evan Giamatti. Therefore, accepting your generous offer would be quite inappropriate.

  It was a pleasure to meet you.

  —Erynne Sommers

  Two things about this note slap a huge grin on my face. The most important is Erynne’s poin
ted, unequivocal admission that we are in a serious relationship. I’m pretty sure I hear a choir of angels singing.

  The second is the tactful way she shut down Douchebag Dante.

  That’s my girl, right there. My girl.

  She snags the paper from me, and before it registers, she’s out the door and sliding the note under Dante’s door.

  “What do you want to do today?” Her innocent question fills me with desire and love.

  What I want is to be a fly on Dante’s wall. Barring that, I tell her, “First, I really, really want to mess up your sheets…” I move toward her and bring her into my arms.

  “Mmm. Then?” Have I mentioned I love those soft moans of hers?

  “Then, maybe mess them up some more.” I’m kissing her sweet neck between words.

  “Mmm. Then?”

  Hard as a fucking steel beam here.

  “Perhaps the champagne on my terrace we never got around to.”

  “Uh-huh…”

  What’s harder than a steel beam?

  “Then, dinner. Out. You in the sinful little black dress that barely covers your splendid ass, and some tall as fuck heels. And red lipstick. Seven o’clock.”

  Soon I will be able to cut diamonds with the thing in my pants.

  She shrugs nonchalantly. “Works for me.”

  ****

  There’s no way on God’s green earth I could have planned this any better.

  The elevator door slides open for us, and we come face-to-face with Dante Gregorius at exactly seven o’clock.

  Erynne is sexy as sin in the dress and heels, her lips pouty and pretty, painted shiny red. All fulfilling my special-order request. The woman holds a one-way ticket to my heart and my dick.

  I squeeze her hand with mine as I revel in Dante’s expression and wish a hidden camera was pointed at him. This is beyond priceless.

  I sincerely hope the guy’s eyes manage to stay in their sockets. But the best part? He mutters “fuck me” under his breath. It’s hard to stifle the laugh itching to escape, and it takes an enormous effort to manage some civility.

  “Dante, nice to see you again.” Not exactly an insincere sentiment. I’d have paid money to watch him squirm in this uncomfortable situation. Dante manages to pull his shit together, and steps off the elevator. The door closes behind him, forcing us to have a conversation with him in the hallway.