by Cassie Cross
We both laugh, and he kisses me with a smile. I’ve wanted him since I met him, and I’ve thought about this moment for nearly a year. I knew it’d be sexy, but I wasn’t expecting this fun, this lightness.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had this with someone.
Jesse’s still standing, thighs pressed up against the mattress, but he still manages to settle himself between my thighs. I take a moment to drink him in, to really look at him. His body is amazing. Broad shoulders, and nothing but muscle, his skin so smooth and warm. I reach out and run my hand along the length of his cock, giving the tip a little squeeze. His hips stutter toward me as he lets out this quick gasp, and I want to spend all night making him come undone.
“Condom,” I tell him. “In my purse.”
He steps out of his pants and goes and gets my bag, which was discarded somewhere near the door. It gives me a great view of his ass, which I have a new appreciation for now that I’ve seen it naked.
Jesse grabs the condom and locks the door. He takes his time on his way back to me, a cocky grin on his face.
“Like what you see?” he asks, slowly sliding his hand down his abdomen.
I nod, biting my lip because I know that turns him on.
It has the effect I hoped it would, pushing his desire into overdrive.
Jesse rips open the condom, rolls it on, then gives me a long, messy kiss, letting his forehead rest against mine as he wraps his arm around my waist. He pulls me to the edge of the mattress, lining up our bodies perfectly.
I sling my arm around his neck as he pushes inside me, the two of us barely breathing as he moves. I kiss him and pull him closer, holding on for dear life as his hips snap against mine. We move together like we’ve been doing this for years, my clit rubbing against him with every thrust, making my nerves feel like live wires. We lose ourselves in each other’s bodies; Jesse’s arm around my waist keeps me anchored against him as he fists the sheets with his free hand.
“Lexa,” he whispers, the endearment making my heart flutter. I’m rapidly losing the thread, teetering on the edge of my orgasm, but I pull back enough to watch Jesse’s brows knit with pleasure. “I need to…I’m gonna…”
He starts circling my clit with his thumb, and I hang onto him like his body’s the only thing that’s keeping me from floating away. I bury my face in his neck as blinding pleasure shoots through me, making my back arch, and my heels dig into Jesse’s back.
He follows me down, his hips stuttering, his muscles tensing as he comes.
We both just rock against each other as we ride out the pleasure, Jesse pressing kisses along my neck, and me holding onto him for dear life as I try to catch my breath.
I lean back, and Jesse comes along willingly, letting me cuddle him against my chest.
I run my fingers through his hair as his breathing returns to normal, and with one last burst of energy he manages to fully pull us on the mattress, settling us on the pillows.
“Wow,” I breathe.
Jesse lets out a tired chuckle, then kisses me on the forehead before wrapping me in his arms. “Definitely wow. That was…incredibly wow.”
My last thought as I settle in for a nap before attempting round two is that I can’t believe we’ve both spent a whole year missing this. What a waste.
But now we have it, and I don’t plan on letting go.
14
Jesse
I wake up with the sun.
Alexa is curled against my side, her hair fanned out across my bicep, which she’s using as a pillow. My fingertips feel like they’re being pricked with pins and needles because she’s cutting off my circulation, but she looks so peaceful that I don’t have the heart to move her.
I’m relaxed and sated in a way that I haven’t been in a really long time. That I fought this very moment for so long seems ridiculous now that I’m in it. There isn’t a single part of me that wants to leave; everything about it feels right.
Alexa sighs and burrows closer against my chest, and the feeling returns to my hand. Gently, I move a strand of hair that’s fallen across Alexa’s forehead. She’s out deep, which doesn’t surprise me given everything we did last night. She’s been so stressed out lately, about the wedding, about the party…it’s nice seeing her without the weight of the world on her shoulders.
“Good m’rning,” she mumbles sleepily. It’s unbearably cute. I can’t help but smile.
“Morning,” I whisper, kissing her forehead. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mmmmm.” Alexa slides her arm across my waist, then rolls over onto her back. “You tired me out.”
The movement pulls the sheet down low on her waist, and I prop up my head on my hand to get a better look at her. Her breasts are so beautiful, and there’s evidence of my…zealousness all over her skin. Patches of beard burn, a hickey here and there. I reach out and graze my thumb across the spots, and Alexa looks down with a smile.
“Sorry about that,” I say, even though I’m not really sorry.
“Don’t be. I like it.”
“Yeah?”
She bites her lip and nods.
That sends a wave of possessiveness through me that has me leaning down and gently biting the underside of her breast. She lets out a soft moan and arches against me.
“More,” she says, and grips the hair at the nape of my neck the way I like.
I brush my chin across Alexa’s nipple, making her gasp. Then I lick my way down her stomach and position myself at the foot of her bed. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, and I know she’s anxious for me to make her come again. So, I take my time and make her wait.
I kiss the insides of her thighs, lick the curve of her hipbone, suck at the skin just below her belly button.
“What are you doing?” she asks, a little whiney, a lot frustrated.
She’s rocking her hips up against me, totally impatient. I move between her legs and spread them wide, giving myself plenty of room to work.
I grin as I move closer to where she’s wet and ready and lick my lips.
“I’m making sure you have a really, really good morning.”
15
Alexa
Marin sits cross-legged on my couch, sorting through the pictures that I took of the wedding. She takes a sip from an overfull glass of merlot, and my heart skips a beat as I have a flash of blood-red wine dripping onto my cream-colored velvet couch.
“I won’t spill,” she says like she can read my mind. She isn’t even looking at me, and she knows I’m having a moment. “Out of the two of us, I’m the one with a better track record when it comes to not wearing my beverages.”
She has a point, and it makes me want to smack her upside the head with a giant pillow. Only my love for the cream-colored velvet couch stops me.
“You did amazing work,” she says. “The design and the pictures, I mean…I knew it’d be great when you showed me the sketches, but I didn’t know it’d be this great. I almost have too many pics to choose from if that’s possible.”
The compliment not only makes me feel good as a designer and planner, but also as Hayley’s best friend. I thought I’d done great work for her, but having someone else confirm it is nice.
“Jesse was a godsend this weekend,” I admit. Apart from all the orgasms, I couldn’t have gotten the wedding set up without his help. “I spent too much time arranging flowers, and he got the lights hung up in no time. He moved the tables a million times without complaining.”
Marin’s giving me this smug look like she knows too much. I haven’t mentioned anything about what happened between him and me at the wedding, mainly because I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I want to keep Marin off the scent because I’m sure I’m smiling like a lovesick idiot, so I try some old-fashioned deflection.
“I’m so glad he finally got his head out of his ass and started being…well, not an asshole.”
Old-fashioned deflection does not work because Marin’s still giving me that maddening look.
“I bet you are,” she says.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. Defensiveness finds its way through the haze of contentment I’ve been living in since I kissed Jesse goodbye at my front door this morning. He’s spent the last few nights at my apartment, and every morning I wake up wrapped in his arms, happier than I ever thought I could be.
It’s terrifying.
“It means that you’ve got this serene, lovesick look going on, and you haven’t stopped smiling while you’re texting since you got back from the wedding. You haven’t been freaking out about the Buchanan party this weekend like you normally would be, and…there’s this.”
Marin turns her laptop in my direction, giving me a good look at her screen. On it is a photo of Jesse and me dancing at the wedding. To anyone who didn’t know any better, we look like we’re in love. Jesse’s gaze is so tender, it makes my heart skip a beat.
I get up and take the laptop from her so I can get a better look. “Where did you get this?” I know the photographer I hired for the event pretty well, and I seriously doubt she took a whole lot of time to focus on party guests like this.
“Hayley,” she says. “She saw you two dancing and wanted to document the moment Jesse got his head out of his ass - and that’s a direct quote.”
I smile at the picture, I can’t help it.
“How he managed to stay away from you for a whole year when he looks at you like that? With actual heart eyes? I’ll never know. He must have amazing self-control.”
He does, I know from firsthand experience. He’s always putting off his pleasure so that I can have mine. I reaped the rewards of that self-control last weekend, and at least twice every day since.
“Have you guys made things official? Am I gonna start seeing him around here?”
Marin’s question cuts right through all the pic bliss I’m feeling, and jolts me back into reality. “I don’t know,” I say quickly, handing the laptop back to her. “Do you want to start getting ready for the Michaelson pitch soon?”
“Oh, no you don’t,” Marin replies, barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes at my attempt to change the subject. “What’s the matter now?”
I didn’t really want to get into this, but I guess there’s no escaping it. I sigh, then plop myself down on the couch. “I’m happy and things are amazing, don’t get me wrong. It’s new, and I’m not looking super far into the future or anything, but…you see the way he looks at me in that picture,” I say, gesturing vaguely in Marin’s direction. “How did he stay away from me for so long? There’s a part of me that’s still waiting for him to change his mind, to run away again.”
I’m expecting a rebuttal, but it doesn’t come. Marin just looks at me with patience and a smile. “I get it. No rush, I’ll stop teasing. It is a great pic though.”
“Yeah.”
“Want me to send it to you?”
I nod. I wouldn’t mind having it around to look at when the doubt creeps in. “Thank you.”
A few seconds later, my phone pings with a new email alert.
“I have some good news,” Marin says, looking pleased.
“Hit me.”
“We don’t just have the Michaelson pitch coming up. I set up two preliminary meetings for other projects.”
“You did?” I ask excitedly.
“Yeah. Apparently Alice Buchanan is pleased with what you’ve done so far on such short notice, and she gave our name to two of her friends.”
“Still the party planner of choice for disgraced DC socialites,” I tease, but there isn’t any bite in it. Disgraced socialite money spends just as well as anyone else’s, and we can’t afford to be picky. “Hopefully everything goes off without a hitch this weekend.”
Having Jesse on my side now makes the nerves dissipate just as soon as they creep up on me. I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without his help at the venue.
Marin puts her hand on my shoulder and gives me a comforting squeeze. “It’s gonna be fine, you’ll see.”
I hope she’s right.
16
Jesse
It’s Saturday evening, just before six, and the restaurant is bustling with pre-party preparations. Alice Buchanan—who is a stone-cold bitch 99% of the time—stopped by about half an hour ago and gave the place a final once-over while Alexa stood next to her, nervously biting on her cuticles when she thought Mrs. Buchanan wasn’t looking.
Mrs. Buchanan was obviously reluctant to admit it, but she said she was impressed. Alexa instantly stood a little taller and gave me a relieved smile as I pointed out our security precautions. Some of the public anger toward her husband has subsided, but she understandably doesn’t want to take any chances with her only daughter. I do my best to put her mind at ease.
As the clock ticks closer to eight Alexa’s anxiety ramps up to eleven. She’s fiddling with centerpieces and going over serving plans with the wait staff for the hundredth time. They go along, even though I can tell it’s a struggle for some of them, sitting through so many run-throughs.
In the short time that I’ve known Alexa, I’ve gotten used to reading her cues, so I know she’s looking for an outlet to get rid of the nervous energy that she’s desperately trying—and failing—to hide.
There’s still a few minutes until the party officially starts, so I catch her near the kitchen in a rare moment of rest and pull her into a dark corner behind a cart stacked with serving trays.
She lets out a little squeak of surprise as I press her against the wall, but she realizes the situation pretty quickly and responds enthusiastically. I kiss her, and she grips my lapels as she presses her tongue against mine. It’s hot and heavy and we get carried away pretty quickly; Alexa’s hands find their way into my hair, and she gently tugs at the nape of my neck the way she knows I like. I kiss my way down to her collarbone, making sure I pay special attention to my favorite parts of her neck along the way.
“The party is going to be a success,” I tell her, sucking on her skin, pressing reassuring kisses all the places I can reach and still be decent. It’s difficult for me not to hike up her skirt and go exploring now that I know what’s waiting for me under her dress, but there’s plenty of time for indecency when I get her home tonight. “It’s going to be a success, and later…”
“Yeah,” she says breathily, pulling on my tie. “Tell me about later.”
“We’re gonna celebrate. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” I push my fingertips along the hem of her dress, paying close attention to the way her breathing stutters.
“Always make me feel good,” she replies, her head lolling back against the wall as I tug her earlobe between my teeth.
There’s a loud crash to our left, and Alexa hides her face in my neck, laughing because she thinks we’ve been caught.
No one’s around, so I whisper, “All clear.”
Alexa gives me another kiss, then wipes her lipstick off my lips with her thumb. “Where are you going to be tonight?”
“I’ll be around,” I reply. I’m planning on walking the perimeter, and spending a little time inside, too. My job isn’t just keeping the party safe from outside threats; I also need to make sure no one does something stupid, like spike the punch and then go for a joyride. “If you need me, call. Or shout,” I laugh. “Otherwise I’ll see you after.”
She reluctantly steps out of my embrace. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“I’ll make sure to make it a night worth looking forward to.” I give her a quick kiss, then head off to do one last check before the party starts.
The night passes by in a blur. I’ve forgotten what a pain in the ass teenagers can be. Doing my rounds was like an obstacle course in adolescent stupidity: feeling each other up in plain view, two kids not even trying to be coy about dumping a bottle of Jameson they stole from their parents’ liquor cabinet into the punch. And I found all that just when I came inside after checking on my guys outside. Who knows what I’ve missed.
The level of securit
y Mrs. Buchanan requested is a little overboard in my opinion, but I take this party as seriously as I would any other job. For the first time in a long while—as long as I can remember—I enjoy this job for what it is, instead of looking to get myself involved in something more prestigious. I finally understand what Hunter’s been trying to drill into my thick skull for a while: every job is meaningful when it involves protecting someone’s life. Riley Buchanan’s birthday party is just as important as any other case I’ve ever worked on, and there isn’t any shame in that. The guys I’m working with feel the same way too, which makes it easy to be the team lead.
Everything here is going smoothly, and it feels good doing my part in making sure Hunter’s company runs smoothly while he’s off on his honeymoon.
Alexa is a force to be reckoned with when she’s in action. She makes sure the kids are behaving, and holds her own with the women in Alice Buchanan’s social circle. They’re all gathered in the private party room in back, drinking wine, oblivious to the fun their kids are having on the other side of the soundproof wall.
Mrs. Buchanan asked for updates through the night, and when I was in there last I heard one of her friends asking for Alexa’s number for help planning her 50th birthday party. The kids seem to love her too, and she knows exactly what to have the DJ play.
Together, we manage to keep everything under control and running smoothly.
She’s so focused that she rarely has a second to spare, but I catch her eye a few times through the night, and she gives me smiles full of promises for later.
I can’t believe I spent so much time thinking I couldn’t have this. I didn’t think I could ever be happy like I am now.
What a waste of time the past year was.
The party rages on until well past midnight, when the kids slowly filter out into chauffeured cars without incident. Alice thanks me, lets me know she’s going to let Hunter know how seamlessly our team worked tonight. After a quick debriefing with my guys, they make a beeline for the leftover food at the buffet. A small cleaning crew comes to put the place back to rights like Alexa promised in the lease, and I stay behind to help her collect some of her own stuff that she used for the party.