by KB Winters
It was probably me. The past week, it probably seemed like I was ignoring her, though she’d been on my mind most of the time. I’d done my best to concentrate on the app as I worked, and though nearly impossible, I’d managed to bring back a semblance of my usual self to the office.
Funny thing was, when I’d thrown myself back into it, I realized the investors’ concerns weren’t exactly unfounded. Beta testing of the first rollout was in good shape, but the coding for the second phase, which was due to launch soon, was only about eighty-percent done. We’d found massive glitches in some of the code we did have, some that my programmers had been working on for a month and hadn’t been able to resolve.
We still had a hell of a lot of work to do. Well, rather, I had a lot of work to do. Because of security concerns, I only gave my programmers the app in piecemeal, so they wouldn’t copy it and take it elsewhere. One could never be too careful when it came to proprietary things. So while they could help me greatly with cleaning up the code, the bigger bugs? I had to deal with them on my own, since I was the only one who knew the whole picture and could fix them.
And that put a lot of weight on my shoulders. That confidence I’d shown to the investors? Bullshit. Now, I was on shaky ground, thinking that if I worked twenty-four hours a day for the rest of the summer, maybe — just maybe — we’d be okay. It also concerned me that one of my employees may have been leaking information about the state of the app to the investors, so I also had to work under the assumption that there could be a mole in the office.
Who? I had no idea. Most of my employees had been with me from the beginning, and they all were just as invested in LuvMakr as I was. The app’s success was their success. It just didn’t make sense that someone on the inside would want it to fail.
But now, I needed to switch out of office mode and enjoy our date. I hadn’t seen Meg all week, and we deserved this. I tamped down any thoughts of E-Ventures’ failure and forced myself into a conversation with her.
“So how has your week been?” I asked her as she studied her menu.
She shrugged. “You know. Working.”
I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out what else to say. It wasn’t easy talking to Meg when she didn’t want to make conversation. That was mostly because I knew nothing about her, and some topics were off limits. She’d gotten testy with me when I’d asked if I could visit her at home. When I was going into the city for the day, she made up excuses why she couldn’t meet me on her lunch break. I still had no idea where she went and what she did when she wasn’t with me. It meant that she had a way of finding me, but if she slipped out of my life again, I’d never be able to find her. How long could she keep up this mystery, and more importantly, why was she so intent on keeping herself secret?
Finally, I couldn’t take the cold shoulder any longer. “Look, I’m sorry. Things have been crazy at the office.”
She looked surprised. “You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. I haven’t been the best boyfriend,” I admitted, testing the term out. She didn’t protest, which gave me courage. Meg was my girlfriend, again. We were in a relationship. “I’m trying to square away the LuvMakr app launch, and it’s a bit of a mess.”
“It is?” She suddenly seemed interested.
I nodded. Why was she so interested in the one thing I really didn’t want to think about tonight? I didn’t elaborate, because I knew I’d probably end up with a headache.
“So I’m sorry if you felt like I ignored you.”
She started to shake her head slowly, and then nodded. “It’s all right.”
I looked at her. There was something different about her, something I couldn’t put my finger on. New hair? New make-up? She was so damn gorgeous, with her dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her big green eyes lined heavy in kohl, and those heavenly lips as red as a tomato. Was it possible that she grew more and more gorgeous every time I laid eyes on her? My cock twitched behind my zipper the second I saw her slinking toward me in the booth, wearing a tight black dress that bared most of her breasts and legs, and knee-high boots. If anything could make me forget the fiasco brewing at E-Ventures, I knew she’d be it.
The waiter came to take our orders. Meg looked up him and said, “Can I have the double with jalapeno bacon, cheddar cheese, and tomatoes, plus truffle fries? Oh, and chips and guac as an appetizer. And a chocolate milkshake?”
I stared at her. She usually didn’t eat that much. I studied the drink menu and said, “I tried a new beer last night. It’s the Troeg’s Sunshine Pilsner. I think you should—”
“No, I’m okay,” she muttered.
“Okay,” I said. For the past few months, since she’d been so quiet about her personal life, that’s basically all we’d been able to bond on — beer flavors. Beer flavors and sex. If beer was gone, I guess we’d have to rely on the mind-blowing sex to sustain our relationship. Not that I minded. But still, I wanted more. “You can taste mine.”
She shrugged.
“I’ll have the Sunshine,” I told the waiter as she sipped on her water. “And the bison burger with vegetable fries.”
He took our menus and I fastened my gaze on her. “You on the wagon?”
“I’m just trying to give up drinking, to be healthier,” she snapped, playing with the salt and pepper shakers nervously as she looked up at the Mets game on the big-screen television behind the bar. “It’s not a big deal.”
I held up my hands in surrender and fought the urge to tell her that jalapeno bacon probably wasn’t on any health food lists. “I didn’t say it was.”
She pursed her lips. “Fine.” Her voice was clipped.
“Fine.” Wow, this was like navigating a minefield. I laced my fingers in front of me, wondering what I could say that wouldn’t piss her off any more. “And you’re sure everything’s okay?”
“Yes!” she burst out, a flash of fire, eyes cold. But they softened immediately. She opened a napkin in front of her and started to shred it nervously. “I mean, why wouldn’t they be?”
“You just seem on edge. Nervous about something?”
“I’m not. I’m just hungry,” she insisted. Now she was tearing the napkin into long pieces in front of her. It was like she couldn’t keep still, like she was a live wire, waiting for the touch that would start the fireworks.
“Okay. Well, what else is there to say?” My eyes drifted to the Mets game and I ended up watching, even though I hated baseball.
Of course, once our drinks and our appetizer arrived, things didn’t get any better. I pushed the full plate over to her, and she dug in ravenously, polishing almost the whole thing off as I watched her. She didn’t offer me any, but I didn’t want it, anyway. I wanted those chips to magically cure her of the chip on her shoulder.
But it didn’t take the edge off for her. She kept watching the Mets game, her eyes almost glazed, as I wracked my brain for something she’d actually talk to me about. I loved Meg, but I didn’t like this Meg one bit.
By the time we were done with our food, I’d had all that I could take. I’d wanted Meg to relieve all the stress I’d had at work, but instead, I felt even more stressed out and frustrated. When I paid the check and we stepped out into the warm summer night, I grabbed her arm gently, whirled her to face me, and said, “Meg. Level with me.”
Her eyes drifted down to my hand, clutching her arm. “Let me go.”
I shook my head.
“Let me go unless you want me to scream that you’re attacking me.”
I loosened my grip on her, and she flashed an apologetic look and started to walk away. “Meg! Stop! Tell me what’s going on.”
She whirled on me. “I’ve told you. Nothing!”
Then she kept on moving.
“Then why are you acting like this? What is going on?” I stopped following her, exasperated. She slowed and turned to me.
“God, Meg. You’re killing me. What the hell is going on with you?”
She sighed and ga
ve me that wild, sexy, heavy-lidded look. She reached for my belt buckle and said, “Nothing! Let’s go back to your car.”
I grabbed her wrist. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
Her face hardened. She pulled away from me. “Then what do you want from me?”
“I want you to talk to me. To stop hiding. This isn’t just about sex, Meg. Why do you think it’s all just about sex?”
She let out another heavy sigh. “Because that’s all it’s ever been.”
I stared at her. That couldn’t be true. Meg was gorgeous and sexy, yes. But underneath the surface, there was so much more. “Maybe with other men, but not with me. Damn, Meg. I want to share your life,” I shouted at her. “I’m trying to get closer to you, but you’ve put up this wall and I don’t get it. Are you just going to leave again?”
She stared at me, breathing hard, nostrils flaring. She pushed her hair away from her shoulder and scanned down the street. It wasn’t busy, but I could sense the people around us were staring. I didn’t care. I wanted to know the answer.
Instead, she opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
“Meg. I love you. I’ve always loved you, and there’s nothing you can tell me that will change that. Do you understand?”
Her face changed. Her eyes, once narrowed in confusion, widened to bewilderment. “You love me?”
“Of course I do,” I told her.
A small smile broke out on her face.
“But I can’t do this, Meg. I can’t have a relationship with someone that’s built on nothing but sex,” I said softly, reaching out and smoothing her hair behind her ear. “I want to know everything about you, Meg.”
I was surprised to see tears in the corners of her eyes.
“No, you don’t. Trust me, you don’t.”
“What?” I nearly laughed out loud at her. No, I didn’t know what she liked to do when she was away from me, but some things were just evident on a person. And Meg was a good person, a person I could see myself building a life with. “All those years ago, everyone made fun of me for being a computer geek. I wanted to be like them, to be like everyone else.”
“You wanted to be dishonest and self-obsessed?”
“Everyone’s not like that,” I told her, surprised. Sure there were bad apples out there, but I’d like to have believed that most people were, essentially, good. And Meg? She was one of the best. “You’re not like that.”
She stared up at me. “How do you know that?”
All right. I didn’t know much about her, but everything inside me told me to trust her. To put everything I wanted and believed in her hands.
I smiled at her. “Trust me, I do. Because when everyone else was out there laughing at me, calling me a nerd and a loser, you didn’t.” A tear ran down her cheek, so I wiped it away with my thumb. “You’re the most amazing, gorgeous, wonderful person I’ve ever met. And trust me when I say, nothing you tell me could make me change that opinion of you.”
She let out a slow breath and closed her eyes as I stroked her cheek. Something about the way she leaned into me told me that maybe she was finally accepting what I told her. I put a finger under her chin, then leaned over and kissed her mouth gently. She responded in kind, finally wrapping her arms around me as our kiss deepened.
When I broke from her, I said, “Let’s go back to my place.”
She nodded.
I held her hand the entire drive home. When we got back to my apartment, we went to the bedroom, and I undressed her slowly, reverently, baring every one of her beautiful curves. I wanted to show her that she was safe with me, that she could trust me. She let out a shuddery breath, and there were tears in her eyes as I kissed her.
“I know what you need,” I told her. “And I promise, I’m not going to hurt you. Do you trust me?”
She looked up at me through her heavy, dark lashes, and whispered, “I trust you, Gabe.”
Chapter 16
Meg
The first time I’d had sex, I was sixteen. I was living in the trailer with my mother, and she’d brought her boyfriend, Dexter, home. He was an engineer working for the state’s roads board. He was smart, had a good job, and I could tell from the way she fawned on him that she was in love. He was handsome, kind of nerdy, but he was tall and used to hug and kiss her and bring flowers to her all the time, making her whisper to me, “Isn’t he a dream?” as she swooned on my shoulder. I used to stay up at night, listening to the sounds of them fucking as the trailer rocked from side to side.
And then one night, as my mother slept, he crept silently into my bed. His hands roamed over my body and they felt good. Warm. Strong. I didn’t say yes as he pulled down my panties and slowly entered me, but I didn’t say no, either. I didn’t say anything.
After that, he snuck into my room more and more. And I liked it. I liked the way sex made me feel, and the power I held over him. When my mother walked in on us, even though I was straddling him and in the middle of orgasm, she blamed Dexter, and I never saw him again.
I don’t think my mother ever blamed me, even when I did it with her next two boyfriends. By then, I’d started to initiate it myself. I’d learned at a very young age that sex was a way to control people. I learned that sex was the most powerful weapon I had in my arsenal. Actually, it was my only weapon. Without it, I was no one.
And then Gabe said he loved me. He said he didn’t want us to be just about sex.
At first, I couldn’t believe it. What else could we be if we weren’t about sex? I’d certainly never had anyone want me for anything else. It had to be a mistake. But he’d said it twice now, and he didn’t even look like he regretted it.
With his arms around me, he guided me into the bathroom, where he peeled off his shirt, balled it up, and tossed it in the hamper.
Then he leaned over his tub and started to run the water. “Do you like it warm or scalding hot?”
I let out a dazed laugh. “We’re taking a bath?”
He nodded. “They always make me feel better. And something tells me you need one.”
He was right about that. My body was sore from the pregnancy, changing every day. My breasts were sore, my stomach crampy, and I could’ve definitely used a bath to loosen my tight muscles. I hadn’t had much of a chance to take one, though, since Heller was always breathing down my neck. I stared at the tub, eager to slide into the warm water. With him.
Yes, I wanted to bathe with the man who loved me. Even if I wasn’t quite sure I believed him. “In between,” I answered.
He twisted the handles. “Bubbles?” he asked.
I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You have bubbles?”
He leaned over and opened the cabinet under the sink. “Somewhere. Possibly.” Reaching in, he pulled out a light pink bottle. The label was so faded I couldn’t even read it. “Bubbles.”
I had to laugh. “I’m impressed. You’ve taken bubble baths before?”
He shrugged, and I was glad he didn’t answer. I didn’t really want to know if he had. Maybe with Tiffany. A shot of jealousy surged through me, but then I thought of what he’d said to me, on the street outside the Burger Barn.
He loved me, not Tiffany. Maybe he loved her before, but that was history.
History, like Dexter, and all the other men who used me for sex. Now, it was me, and wonderful, trusting Gabe, the man who loved me.
And watching him swirl the water with his fingers, testing its warmth, I knew without a doubt, I was completely in love with him.
But I wasn’t going to tell him that. I couldn’t. The thought of doing so was enough to make me break out in hives. I couldn’t tell him, only to destroy him, a moment later.
“Okay then, bubbles it is.”
He stood beside the tub, emptying in more than what was probably needed, his eyes travelling over my body. The aroma of something sweet, like cotton candy, filled the air. “Baths always make me feel better, no matter what’s ailing me.”
He stood, and I helped him unb
utton his jeans. He sat on the toilet lid, slid them off and said, “Go ahead. Get in.”
I climbed into the tub, letting the water soothe my tight muscles. I settled back and closed my eyes. I inhaled the scent of candy as the water slowly rose the bubbles up to my chin. It was heavenly. Then I opened my eyes and saw him leaning against the sink in his underwear, arms crossed, staring intently at me. His cock was hard against his boxer briefs. “You coming in?”
“In a minute. I’m just looking at you. How beautiful you are. I wish I was a painter, because I’d paint you.”
“Really? So . . .” I smiled, took a washcloth, and dipped it in the warm water. I lathered it with soap and ran it over my tits as I stroked them, soapy and wet, nipples hard, out of the water. “Are you getting off, watching me?”
He shook his head. “You’re a work of art. Not a sex toy.”
He knelt on the bath rug. He put his hand out, and I dropped the washcloth into his palm. I leaned forward, hugging my knees, and throwing my hair over my shoulder. He ran the washcloth in slow, gentle circles on my back, mesmerizing me so much that I let out a gasp. The porcelain side of the tub that was separating us was too much of a barrier.
“Get your ass in here,” I said, wrapping my wet hands around his wrists and coaxing him toward me.
No argument whatsoever. He slipped out of his boxers and climbed in, sliding in behind me, so that I was sitting between his legs. His cock was rock hard, so I wiggled my ass to find a comfortable spot in front of him.
“Lie back,” he said. Placing his hands on either side of my head, he guided me toward him and started to scoop warm water onto my hair. Then he squeezed the shampoo from the tube and massaged it into my hair, slowly and carefully. He started at the top, lathering it up, running it down the length of my long hair.