Cityscape Affair Series: The Complete Box Set

by Hawkins, Jessica

  “Then leave them behind. I’ll replace all of it.”

  That would simply put a Band-Aid over a deeper wound. Bill and I would have to deal with each other in the months ahead, and I couldn’t have David trying to control and manage our every interaction. It wasn’t healthy for us or him. “They’re my things,” I said. “I’m going to get them.”

  David’s jaw set. “Your safety isn’t a game to me.”

  Everything in my body tightened as frustration coursed through me. “Well, it’s happening,” I said and walked over to my bedside table, “so get over it.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I turned to him, unbuckling my watch, and repeated myself. “I said get over it.”

  He folded his arms over his chest, his biceps bulging under his white t-shirt. “Are you trying my patience on purpose?”

  “So what if I am?” I asked, tossing my watch aside. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m about to get pissed the fuck off.”

  “What do you call this?” I asked, waving my hand over him. His frame seemed to grow, but I held my ground. David didn’t scare me, but losing myself and my independence did. “You can’t come,” I said. “And now I’m pissed the fuck off.”

  He was almost vibrating. “I told you,” he said, each word sharp as it sliced from his mouth, “you’re not to be alone with him.” He walked toward the bed, bearing down until we were face to face, but still, his voice rose. “He touches you, and that’s on me. What are you going to do with Gretchen there if Bill tries to hurt you? Huh?” When I just stared at him, he smacked the wall next to us. “Answer me.”

  My eyes stayed riveted on him as his anger radiated around us. It wasn’t anger, though—it was fear. Even though I dealt with my anxieties differently, I still recognized them in him. I was terrified of losing David now that I’d found him, and he felt the same about me. He truly believed Bill could hurt me.

  But before I could think of a way to convince David that wasn’t true, or even ease his fears, he turned and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

  I didn’t want to fight with him. I hated to see him hurt, but I had to set boundaries. David had no right to order me around. In this case, he was wrong. Bill didn’t deserve to have his broken nose rubbed in my new relationship.

  I climbed back onto the bed, wondering where David had gone. I hoped he hadn’t left the apartment. His apartment. His bed. I had nowhere to go when I was upset. Would he even want me sleeping beside him? Did I want that knowing we’d each be fuming all night?

  I grabbed a pillow and silently opened the door. Light spilled out from under the closed door of his office. Relieved that he hadn’t left, I skipped the guest room in favor of curling up on the couch by the fireplace.

  I sank into the pillow, promising myself that we’d work it out in the morning. That once he’d cooled off, he’d see things from my perspective. He had to. If he couldn’t, he’d have to find a way to work through this issue, because I wasn’t giving in.

  * * *

  I heaved a sigh and opened my bleary eyes. In the dark, orange light from the fireplace flickered over David’s marble features as he looked down at me on the couch. Even through my sleepiness, his handsome face took my breath away. Were his eyes so intense that they could pierce my sleep?

  “Why are you out here?” he whispered from above me.

  “You’re mad at me,” I said in a small voice, coiling around my pillow. “And I’m mad at you.”

  He turned off the fireplace, then crouched down and cleared a piece of hair from my face. “I’ll never be so pissed that I don’t want you sleeping next to me.” He bundled me in his arms and lifted me to his chest.

  I closed my eyes and burrowed my nose into his t-shirt, inhaling fresh laundry and David while he carried me. “I’m still angry,” I said. “You shouldn’t have yelled at me like that.”

  “I know.” He set me in the middle of the bed and wrapped himself around me. “We’ll figure this out. Just promise you won’t leave my bed again.”

  I nodded my agreement, already drifting off as I told him I loved him.

  20

  I awoke still in my robe, unable to remember how I’d gotten from the couch to the bed. The faucet started in the bathroom, and I quickly ran through David’s and my conversation from the night before. My stance hadn’t changed, but since my plans for the night had been thwarted, I decided that I’d be up for angry sex if he was.

  I wasn’t looking forward to our impending conversation, however, so I avoided the bathroom altogether and went to his office instead to grab my laptop from the couch. I stopped at his drafting table to look at a mess of papers that hadn’t been there the night before. The blueprint on top was labeled Home. I leaned closer, my eyes darting over a drawing of the Oak Park house, and tried to envision what he’d created. Even while upset with me, he’d been thinking of us. My heart filled with love as I took in all the care and detail he’d put into the plans. I ran my fingers over the copious and hasty notes scribbled in his handwriting.

  “That’s just a rough sketch,” he said from behind me. “Obviously, I’d get your input before we move into the next phase.”

  I turned around. He was already dressed for work in a crisp, royal blue dress shirt and black slacks. “You’re amazing,” I said. “And whatever you do will be perfect.”

  “Perfect?” he asked with an arched black eyebrow.

  “Perfect,” I repeated because I meant it. With the thought and care he put into things, I couldn’t imagine anything less, however it turned out. “Thank you.”

  He came into the room and stepped around me, pulling the chair out from under his desk. He sat down and rolled closer before gesturing for me to sit on his lap.

  I obeyed cautiously while holding my robe closed, unsure of his mood. His fingers grazed against my neck as he swept my hair away, and his chin hovered over my shoulder. “See this here?” he asked into my ear, pointing to the bedroom.

  I nodded.

  “I’m picturing a bathroom like the one in this apartment but even bigger. We can put in a gigantic shower, and then over here, a clawfoot tub.”

  “I like those tubs,” I said.

  “I thought you might. That would mean losing a little space in the bedroom, especially if you want a walk-in closet.”

  “I do.”

  “I thought you might.”

  I smiled to myself as he laid out the rest of the bedroom. Sliding his fingers down the hallway, he explained that he’d need one room for his office, that way he could work from home more often.

  But the room across the way had noticeably fewer notes. David’s finger lingered there a moment before he spoke. “This is a free room, unless you have any ideas. I suppose maybe a guest room would be a good idea. At first, anyway.”

  I didn’t tense despite my body’s impulse to. He would notice, and I couldn’t have that. Not after we’d gotten this far and hadn’t even had a chance to really enjoy each other yet. Because his implication was clear. In his vision of the future, that room would one day be a nursery. I didn’t know how a discussion about children would go, but, it was the only thing left that had the power to destroy us.

  “It’s not a huge house,” he continued, “so as time goes by, we may want to . . . add. In case we need more, you know, space. I’ve taken this into consideration, and we’ll have the ability when the time comes. Unless you want to do it now.”

  My heart fell. Add? Exactly how much does he want to “add”? And when what time comes?

  He proceeded through the remainder of the house, describing his ideas and what they’d entail. I was confronted with the immensity of the project, from replacing the plumbing system to reroofing, retiling, repainting . . . I sighed at the fact that he was doing this, essentially, for me.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked gently, raking his fingers through my hair to tuck it behind my ear.

  “Nothing at all,” I said. “Except that it’s a lot of wor
k, David. And money.”

  He stayed quiet as he continued to pet me. I closed my eyes, succumbing to the power of his hands on me. “I always knew I wanted to be an architect,” he said. “I was lucky, I guess. I never even considered anything else . . . I don’t know why. It felt like my calling. It has given me a lot—purpose, gratification, wealth. It’s hard work, but it’s also my hobby. And you are my passion. I want to do this for you. I need to.”

  “I love you,” I whispered, leaning back against him with my eyes still closed. His now smooth cheek passed against mine. His hands came around the front of my slinky robe, passing over my breasts and hugging me close. He pressed his lips into my cheek, remaining there as my body responded to his touch. Desire, already simmering at the surface, blossomed deep inside of me.

  “I have to leave for work,” he said without letting go.

  I groaned and wrapped my arms over his. “Stay.”

  “I wish I could, but I have meetings. Canceling one will create a domino effect,” he asked. “Do you want to take one of my cars to work?”

  “You’d let me?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He hesitated. “But you hurt it, and there’ll be consequences.”

  Though I didn’t think I’d mind the consequences, I only laughed and said, “I’ll take the train.”

  “I have a really full day, but we still need to talk about getting your stuff tonight.”

  My peacefulness faded. “Yes, we do.”

  “All right, up you go.” He lifted me off his lap and set me on my feet. “Come to my office on your lunch break, and I’ll have food delivered.”

  I nodded, glancing at his dress shirt. “Are we going to fight?” I asked.

  “I hope not, baby. I don’t like when we do.”

  “Me neither.” I placed my hands on his chest and rose up for a kiss. “Have a good morning.”

  “I already am,” he said. “See you in a few hours.”

  * * *

  As the elevator at Pierson/Greer ascended, I tapped my foot and thought about what was to come. Still unsettled over the previous night’s fight, I wasn’t looking forward to rehashing it. In the office, I met the pretty, young receptionist who’d taken Clare’s place, and quickly checked my tinge of jealousy when I noticed how nervous she seemed. She knew who I was and practically knocked over a water bottle while taking my coat.

  After informing me David was on his way, she showed me into his empty office. Back in his bubble, I relaxed. I wandered around the room, picked up a photo of him with his family, and got a surge of affection, even though I’d only met them twice. I’d never had those warm feelings toward Bill’s stoic family—nothing remotely close, actually.

  I heard David send the receptionist to lunch before striding into the office with a plastic bag and shutting the door behind him. Earlier, I’d noticed how his royal blue dress shirt set off his dark features, but now I had the urge to jump into his arms and beg him to take me.

  My unsettled feeling returned, however, when I noticed he seemed edgy—a dark, brooding cloud entering my hemisphere. “I don’t have much time, so I just grabbed Mexican from downstairs,” he said, setting the full bag on his desk.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  The look on his face indicated the scolding to come, but I was saved by the ringing of his desk phone. He whipped off his jacket and threw it over the couch. “One minute,” he said. I watched him round the desk and fall into his chair, leaning back as he answered the phone. “Dylan. Yes.” His eyebrows knit. “Yes. Go on.”

  One thing I’d not yet gotten was my businessman David. I’d been thrumming since the night before, and quite often over the past few months, I’d yearned to see what was underneath David’s perfectly tailored suits. I strolled over to his chair, and before he even looked up, dropped to my knees between his legs. The leather chair groaned as he sat forward suddenly.

  “Yes, that’s—that’s correct,” he stammered into the phone. I looked at him from beneath my lashes. My hands skated up his muscular thighs until one landed on his crotch. He shifted when I touched the hardening length of him through his pants.

  His hand dove into my hair, and he pulled my head back so I was forced to look at him. I bit down on my lip, and he smirked at me.

  “That will be presented at the afternoon meeting,” he continued, staring at me as I blindly undid his fly. “We’ll go over—you know what, I have to call you back.” The phone was down before he’d even finished the sentence. He grasped my waist with two large hands and hoisted me up onto his desk.

  “Wait,” I protested, salivating to take him in my mouth.

  “Lie back.”

  “But I wanted to—”

  “Lie back,” he growled. I complied.

  He pulled my hips so I was hanging off the edge, then shoved up my skirt as if we were on a timer. My panties ripped loudly a second before his fingers were in me.

  My eyes fluttered closed. “Oh, God,” I moaned.

  “Mouth shut, eyes open,” he whispered, glancing at the door. “Christ, you’re wet. You been like this all day?” he asked, his fingers slowing as they leisurely explored me.

  I nodded emphatically, pleading with my eyes for him to fuck me, but he shook his head slowly.

  “Can you keep quiet?” he asked, and I nodded again.

  He crouched down, and I rested my legs on his shoulders as his tongue landed directly on my clit. He was so domineering, telling me what to do, commanding me in his businessman David way that I easily melted into the sensations. My orgasm was already within reach because it’d been nearby all morning. My thighs shook as he lapped at me, hard and then soft until my eyes crossed with my need for release. I strained to keep quiet, suppressing my groans behind airtight lips. My climax churned through me, wave after wave as his tongue prolonged it.

  When it ended, I exhaled audibly and dropped my feet, slumping on his desk. I was spent but riveted by the lusty look on his face. Powerful and slightly out of control, he dropped his pants and took my thighs in each of his hands. He squeezed them and licked his lips. “I’ve missed your pussy. It’s far too sweet not to have it every day.”

  I whimpered as he positioned himself against me and pulled my hips into his first thrust. Even through his shirt, I saw his arms flex as he urged me deeper onto him. Strong fingers spread my legs, so each time he pulled out and slid back in, I had no choice but to feel all of him. I reached behind me to grip the lip of his desk, pushing back against him, clenching around his cock, watching his jaw tighten and release as his drives came faster.

  He pinned my thighs to the desk and dropped forward to lock me in a furious kiss. I could taste his desire, and that alone catapulted me into a raw and throbbing orgasm that had me crying his name into his mouth.

  He detached from me and ripped open my blouse. His mouth dropped to my chest, sucking and nipping the skin between my breasts so I yelped. His fingers dug into my hips as he came with a gush of hot fluid, groaning against my collarbone as he emptied himself in me, gliding in and out until he was completely finished.

  “Jesus,” he said into the curve of my neck. He released my hips and fell back into his leather chair. “You’ll be the death of me if we keep this up.” He paused a moment, looking thoughtful. “Fucking you would be the sweetest way to go, though.”

  I slid off the desk, and he caught me as my legs threatened to give out. I steadied myself against his shoulders and went to pull down my skirt when he stopped me. He groaned from his chest and ran a finger up to catch semen dripping down my thigh. He held it up to my mouth, and our gazes locked as I licked it off.

  “There’s an image that’ll have me walking funny the rest of the day,” he said.

  I laughed and followed him into his bathroom where he boosted me onto the counter. He ran water over a hand towel, opened my red and raw legs, and wiped me down with quiet determination.

  After rinsing the towel, he pulled me close for a series of gentle pecks. His eyes traveled down m
y neck and stopped.

  “My blouse,” I said, following his gaze. “It’s ruined.”

  But he wasn’t looking at that. He focused on a red mark his mouth had left on my chest, then ran his fingers around it. “Did that hurt?”

  “No.”

  He searched my eyes a moment, then held my button-less top closed. “What are we going to do about this?” he asked.

  “Do you have a sewing kit?” I asked.

  “Do I look like an eighty-year-old woman?”

  I pursed my lips. “Well, what do you suggest?”

  “Mmm.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed his way down my neck. “I keep you in here and make love to you between meetings for the rest of the day.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call what we just did ‘making love,’” I teased.

  His head jerked back, and his brow furrowed. “It’s all love. Every touch, every kiss. Even when it comes like that. You know that, right?”

  I put my hand on his jaw. “Yes.”

  “We might be fucking like rabbits, but it’s always with love.”

  I broke into a grin. “You really have a way with words.”

  He laughed until his face fell. “Seriously, though. We need to get you a shirt, and I need food.”

  I hopped off the counter and grabbed the takeout from his desk to unpack it on his coffee table while he made a call.

  After a moment, he said into his desk phone, “This is David Dylan. I have—yes, hello.” He paused. “I’m sending my girlfriend over in a few minutes, and I’d like you to put whatever she picks out on my account. That’s fine, thanks.”

  He hung up, immediately came to the couch, and tore into a burrito. “I’m starving,” he muttered with another enormous bite.

  “Um, who was that?” I asked after I’d swallowed my food.

  “There’s a shop around the corner. Go get a new blouse.” He glanced from his food to my skirt and then back. “Underwear, too.”