Reckless Devotion (Book One)

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Reckless Devotion (Book One) Page 7

by Jennifer Domenico


  She laughs, shaking her head. “No.”

  “No?”

  We walk outside and down the sidewalk. “No. Better.”

  “What could be better?” We reach the corner, and I push the crosswalk button. “Explain.”

  “We stayed up all night Saturday just talking and kissing and getting to know each other.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “And that’s better than sex to you?”

  “Yes, Mia. He said he thought that true seduction involved the mind way before it involved the body. Isn’t that neat?”

  I think about that for a second realizing quickly that Gabriel might subscribe to that idea himself.

  “Yeah, it’s neat. So he’s nice?”

  “Yeah, he is.” The light changes and we walk across the street to our favorite pita restaurant. “He studied law, took the bar and everything, then he just realized that wasn’t for him, so he went back to school, got his master’s in education, and now he’s a teacher.”

  “What grade?”

  “High school history.”

  “I dig it.” I squeeze her hand. “I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks, but, well, we can talk more when we get inside.”

  “Okay.”

  We finish walking and enter the restaurant, waiting a moment to be seated. I don’t bother checking the menu since I always get the same thing, even though I’m not that hungry yet after my unexpected breakfast.

  “What?” Sara asks.

  I look up at her. “What?”

  “You’re grinning. Something funny?”

  I laugh softly. “Um, no. So, more about Jamie?”

  She puts her menu down. “Yeah. We got on the topic of sex, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “During the talk, I found out he’s been married before.”

  “Oh? When did that happen?”

  “He’s been divorced for four years.”

  “That’s a good amount of time. How old is he?”

  “Two years older than me. Just turned thirty.”

  “K. So, what’s bugging you? Does he have kids?”

  “No, nothing like that.” She sips her water, and we pause as the server takes our order— chicken pita for Sara, grilled steak and hummus for me. Once the server is gone, Sara wrings her hands before meeting my eyes. “This is probably gonna sound really shallow.”

  “Hit me.”

  “I don’t want to fall for a guy that’s been married before.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to be the first. When I get married, I want to be the only woman he’s ever wanted to commit to on that level. Is that dumb?”

  “No, it’s not dumb, but it might be a little unrealistic. If we were eighteen, maybe, but at this point, so many people have been married.”

  “I know.” She fiddles with the edge of her napkin.

  “Hey.” Her eyes shift to me. “Do you like Jamie?”

  “A lot.”

  “So then does it really matter? What happened in his marriage?”

  “They were married less than two years. She was pregnant.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, but she miscarried shortly after it was official.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “I guess. He didn’t want the baby, but he felt obligated. Then after the miscarriage, they both decided to just try and make the best of it, but quickly realized they didn’t have anything in common and wanted different things.”

  “Okay.” I smile. “Let’s back up. Based on what you’re telling me, Jamie still fits your criteria. He didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want to have a baby. So he still hasn’t experienced the feeling of wanting to spend the rest of his life with the same woman.”

  A slow smiles spreads on her lips. “Oh. I was so focused on the event, I didn’t think it through.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  Sara laughs. “Thanks. I was hung up on something that didn’t even matter.”

  “Just stay open to him. See where it goes. You never know what could happen.”

  “Do you take your own advice?”

  “Usually.”

  She starts to speak again, but my phone buzzes, so I grab it and read the text.

  Send me a picture of your lunch.

  “Who is it?” Sara asks.

  “Your brother. Has he always been preoccupied with what people eat?”

  Her eyebrow raises. “Not to my knowledge. Why?”

  Not answering her, I shoot back a reply.

  I’m with Sara.

  And?

  And… weird. I never take pics of my food. She’ll ask why.

  Tell her I asked for it.

  Why would you ask to see my lunch??? You’re such a weirdo.

  Don’t fucking talk to me like that, Mia.

  I narrow my eyes as I read his reply, then glance up at my friend, and smile.

  “He wants to see what we’re eating.”

  Sara nods. “Okay.”

  Say you’re sorry. The next text reads.

  Fuck you.

  Say you’re sorry or you won’t see me.

  Ever? Sounds like a deal.

  Don’t talk shit. I know you want me just as badly as I want you, but I’ll sacrifice myself if you disrespect me. Now, decide. Are you sorry or are you done with me?

  You disrespect me too!

  I haven’t once called you a name. Now are you sorry or not?

  I swear this man is driving me to drink. I look up to see Sara watching me intently, and know I need to make a decision. I could say I’m done, but let’s be real. I’m not. Reluctantly, I type out the two words he wants.

  Fine. I’m sorry.

  Apology accepted. Now take a picture of your lunch and send it to me. Tell my darling sister that I’m interested in local restaurants.

  Okay.

  A few minutes later, our meal is delivered and I obediently take a picture of it and text it off to him before digging in. When the phone buzzes, I have to hold myself back from grabbing it too quickly and revealing how I’m hanging on his every word. Fuck.

  Looks very good. Eat it all up.

  Do you want a picture of my empty plate? I am being sarcastic I hope he knows.

  No. I will trust you.

  Putting my phone down, I try to understand what’s happening in my own head. Why does he excite me so much? He’s a condescending asshole, and I’m eating it up like a starving woman at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  “What did he say?” Sara asks.

  “That it looks good.”

  She nods. “It must be because it’s you. He never asks me what I’m eating, but so far he’s asked me what your favorite bagel is, if you like orange juice, and now he wants to see what you’re eating for lunch.”

  I just smile and shovel some hummus in my mouth to avoid speaking.

  “I know you don’t want to talk about him, but, well…” she pauses, and pulls at her pita bread. “He’s protective. A little domineering. Guys that liked me were always intimidated by him, but he’s super loving and sweet, kind too. He hides it, a lot. Maybe he thinks being vulnerable is bad, I don’t know.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Maybe he’s being protective of you. You know, making sure you eat and stuff.”

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  “Growing up I always thought it was weird that Gabriel didn’t have girlfriends. I learned later that he never wanted to be tied down with just one person. Just like someone else I know.”

  I chuckle. “Yes, but I have been in relationships.”

  “Sort of.” She grins. “If he has, I wouldn’t know. He never introduced me to anyone or talked about a special person. I think he’s sort of a man whore.”

  Now I laugh. “A man whore, huh?”

  “Yeah. He’s down to have sex but nothing else. So if that’s what happened this weekend—”

  “It’s not. We didn’t have sex.” Technically speaking. “Probably beca
use I’m your friend. Maybe he’s trying to be respectful.” Or something.

  She smiles. “Maybe. He’s texting you, so that’s sweet.”

  “Super sweet.” Yeah, right. Remembering how gently he kissed me after our scene on the sofa, I add, “He seems like he has a soft side underneath all that swagger.”

  Sara giggles. “That’s a good word to describe him.” After a moment, she touches my hand. “Do you like him?”

  “I know what you’re doing. You’re doing all the talking to get me to lower my guard, but it’s not working.”

  She smiles. “Just answer that one question and I’ll let it go. Do you like him?”

  It’s sort of obvious at this point. “Yeah.” I wish to God I didn’t.

  “Good. That makes me really happy.”

  That makes one of us. Smiling, I chew a piece of pita wondering just exactly how I’m going to handle him if he shows up tonight.

  SITTING AT MY desk, I re-read the text Mia sent then stare at my phone for a minute, almost in shock that she did it. All of it, from this morning to now. This is gonna be even better than I anticipated. Now I just have to decide what’s next. I already know that sex between us is going to be explosive, but I can’t go there yet. Mia’s different than all the other women I’ve been with. Her fiery passion matches mine. I’m figuring out if I can get in her head, twist her, and show her a different way she could be exactly what I need. The longer I fuck with her mind, the longer I’ll be able to fuck her body. I’m sure I can convince her if given time. She’s never been challenged by a man before, that much is obvious, but I have to find the right balance. If I push her too hard, she’ll run. I need to bring her right to the edge and keep her there.

  My thoughts are interrupted by a soft tap on the door. I look up to see my coworker Adrienne.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey you,” she says, walking in. “Got lunch plans? Some of us are heading across the street to get a burger.”

  “I could eat. Thanks.” Grabbing my phone, I slide it into my pocket and follow Adrienne out to the hallway where several other people are waiting. I don’t normally mingle with people I work with, but I need to get back into the American lifestyle, and this is one way to do that.

  After saying hello to the others, we walk outside and across the street, while my thoughts shift back to Mia. I’ll go to her tonight, that’s for sure, but what I’ll do when I get there is still undecided. This weekend, I think she’ll be ready to learn everything she needs to know before she completely surrenders. The thought of that, of her on her knees, waiting for my command causes my dick to twitch in my slacks, and I exhale slowly to get my bearings.

  “You okay?” Adrienne asks.

  “Yeah. Fine. Why?”

  “You seem distracted.”

  “Oh, yeah. I was thinking of some things I have to do later.”

  She nods, and as her eyes linger on me, it becomes clear why she invited me. Poor girl. She doesn’t stand a chance now that I’ve met Mia. Besides, I don’t fuck where I work. It wouldn’t do for any coworker to know what I’m like after hours.

  Once inside the restaurant, we’re seated and start reading over the menu. Adrienne is seated right next to me, and as tempted as I am to fuck with her head, I can’t right now. All my attention is imprisoned by thoughts of Mia.

  After we order, one of the guys, Max, speaks to me. “So, how’s life now that you’re back in the good ol’ US of A?”

  I chuckle. “Good, actually. I like Phoenix so far, and my sister’s here, so I’m happy.”

  “You’re close to her?” he asks.

  “Very close, but since I’ve been gone so long, I want to spend some time reconnecting with her.”

  “I’m dying to know what women are like in France,” another coworker, Lisa, states.

  “In what area?”

  “All of them. Did you date while you were there?”

  You could call it dating. “A little.”

  “Is it really different than here?”

  “No.” All women are the same, but I’d get my ass chewed if I made such a sexist comment out loud. “At the end of the day, I believe the art of romance is universal. I would say that the French, in general, are more romantic and expressive than we are. More open, if you will.”

  “That must’ve been refreshing,” Adrienne comments.

  “Not if you’re not romantic, expressive, or open.” I smile. “I guess I never shook off my American style. Lucky for me, French women, if anything, are adaptable.”

  Adrienne smiles, slightly biting her bottom lip. “Well, I’m sure you won’t have any problem adjusting to American women again.”

  “Not so far.”

  “You dating someone already?” Max asks.

  “I am,” I answer, gazing straight into Adrienne’s eyes. Her expression reflects her disappointment. “It’s a new relationship, but she’s exactly what I need at this time in my life.”

  “Why?” Adrienne asks. “Does she remind you of France?”

  I smile. “No, she reminds me of poetry, and art, and love songs, and stormy nights.”

  “Whoa,” Lisa replies. “That’s the coolest description of a woman I’ve ever heard. You must be smitten.”

  “Something like that.”

  “France must’ve rubbed off on you,” Lisa continues. “Could you give my husband some lessons?”

  “Give me some too,” Max adds, laughing.

  Chuckling, I take a sip of water. “To be honest, I didn’t think France had any effect on me until I met her. She brought it all to the surface.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I have no idea why I’m revealing so much. “Anyway, enough about me.”

  “Sorry for putting you on the spot,” Max says, patting my arm. “It’s just exotic that you lived abroad for three years.”

  “True,” Lisa adds. “I’d love to know what the best part was.”

  I consider the question for a moment, and when I glance at Adrienne, she’s ignoring me and staring at her menu. I chuckle and shake my head. Chicks.

  “I guess I’d have to say the best part is just being uncomfortable. I believe that to grow, you have to step outside of the box you live in. You have to push yourself to do things that scare you. To me fear is just another form of excitement. Pain, just another expression of pleasure, if executed properly.” Adrienne puts down her menu slowly gazing up at me. “I learned things about myself in Paris, things I never knew, and now, well, I’m better than when I left.”

  All three of them are staring at me now, so I smile, and nod my head as I take a drink of water.

  “I gotta take you out drinking and get some tips, man,” Max says, laughing.

  “Anytime.”

  The attention finally shifts away from me as we order our lunch. I could tell them how living in Paris honed my skills, my attention, my patience. There, I realized my potential as the man I am today. I could tell them, but then they’d want to know how, and that would be far too much information for a coworker lunch.

  The discussion shifts to things about work, a change I’m thankful for because I can’t stop thinking about Mia. My wild beauty, untamed, unchallenged. My stormy night. I want to be the man that she gives herself to, all of her, not just that incredible body. As my memory replays those few thrilling moments on her couch, with my fingers buried in her, it’s so clear I can still hear her moans, inhale her scent, feel her lips on mine. Fuck. I need to get my head in the game. My dick is so hard if I had to stand up right now, it would be quite a show for my lunch partners.

  We eat, chatting about the latest movies, popular TV shows, and sporting events. I don’t care about any of it. All I care about is breaking Mia. When the check comes, as the most senior person among us, I grab the bill and pay despite the protests. We stand to leave, but Adrienne touches my arm, causing me to pause as the others walk ahead.

  “Yeah?”

  “Um…” Her eyes meet mine. “At the risk of getting called to HR, I just wa
nted to say if for some reason, she doesn’t appreciate you, or if you find yourself needing something more, we could grab a drink or something.”

  Gazing down at the woman, I take in her features for a moment. She’s not bad looking, but there’s nothing spectacular happening. Average at best. There’s no fire in her eyes, but I know without asking that she would bend to my will in a minute. Suddenly, that’s just not as exciting to me as it used to be.

  “I appreciate that, Adrienne, but I think I’m going to be tied up for quite some time.”

  She nods, as her cheeks turn red. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

  “You didn’t. I’m flattered. I’m just not available.”

  “Understood.”

  “We should get back.”

  “Yep.”

  As we walk back, she keeps her distance, avoiding eye contact with me. Now I’ll have to deal with that dynamic. Awesome. Back at the office, I head to my desk, pulling my phone out to fuck with Mia again.

  I had an interesting conversation about dating at lunch today.

  Several minutes pass before I receive a response.

  I don’t give a fuck.

  God, her defiance turns me on.

  Yes, you do. It was about you. Want to know what I said?

  Let me guess. You told them what I was having for lunch?

  I laugh out loud reading her response. Instead of responding via text, I dial her number.

  “What?” she answers and I love it.

  “I was asked if I was dating and told them that I was.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I said I met someone that had captured all of my attention.”

  “And?”

  “I was asked if you reminded me of France, and I said no, you remind me of storms.”

  “Storms? Gee, thanks.”

  “It’s a compliment. Haven’t you ever stood outside and watched a thunderstorm lighting up the night sky and marveling at how it can be so beautiful and destructive at the same time?”

  “That’s what you think of me?”

  “Yes.”

 

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