by D. B. James
“Netflix it is. Around seven?”
“Perfect.”
“Bye, sweet Cherry,” he says as he walks out of my office and out of my life for the next few days.
What am I going to do without him?
“Delivery for Cherry,” says a messenger boy as he walks into T&T before I can get out my welcome. Since he said it’s for Cherry, I know it’s something from Brant.
Smiling, I walk over to the door to sign for the huge delivery.
“I’m Cherry.” I guess. “Do I need to sign?”
“No, everything is all set. Have a great day, ma’am.” Wait a frickin’ minute—ma’am?
“I’m not old enough to be a ma’am, kid,” comes flying out of my mouth before I can stop it. Snide remarks like that one are what lead to trouble. Move, Tessa—he’s going to smack you.
“Apologies. It’s a habit, I say it all the time. Sir and ma’am roll easily off my tongue. Sorry,” he says while fleeing out the shop’s door.
Well…shit. I didn’t mean to scare him off or reprimand him. Hell, I thought my mouthing off was going to lead to him hurting me.
Shaking my head, I brush the remorseful thoughts away and take in my gift.
It’s a giant stuffed panda.
Brant bought me a ridiculously large stuffed panda.
The grin spreading across my face can’t be stopped. It’s real and genuine, one I’ll admit I’ve been getting used to over the last few days.
Since he’s working, I decide to send him a text instead of calling—this gift just can’t go without thanks.
Me: Thank you. I love him, and I shall name him Ace Jr.
Tucking my phone away in a drawer under the register, I go about finding a place to set Ace Jr. for the next few hours. Where does one put a giant stuffed panda?
“Holy smokes, boss, where are you going to put him?” Jasmine asks as she walks in from the back storage room, her hands full of new dresses I ordered last week from a mad talented new designer named Teagan.
“Funny you should ask, I was thinking the exact thing. I could put him in the back for the day, but he makes me smile. At home, I have the perfect place for him.”
“Is this a gift from the hottie you’ve been kissing on?” she inquires.
“Aha! I knew you’d be asking about Brant. Thank you, by the way, for not bringing him up yesterday after he left. I needed the time to just…be.”
“Trust me, I didn’t stay silent for your sake. We were so busy the rest of the day, I just never had the chance to bring it up. I’ve been dying to ask—you know how nosy I am. Give me all the glorious details.”
Shaking my head, I find the perfect place for A.J. and stash him on the display of black and white journals, picture frames, scarfs, skirts, and leggings. Hopefully, no one will think he’s on sale.
“Don’t sell my baby, Jasmine. He’ll go home with me later this evening, but he’ll look lovely on display for today.” Ignoring her questions for a moment longer, I straighten up the shelf a bit. “Brant is my…valuable friend. I know you already know who he is, but I’m starting at the beginning. We’ve decided to give this dating thing a go. You heard him yesterday—he feels deeply about me, but I’m skittish. If it’s more, we’ll see. If it’s not, we’ll see about that as well.”
My explanation must be enough for her because she doesn’t ask any more questions.
My phone buzzes in the drawer, making me smile. Grabbing it, I see several texts from Brant and one from Averill.
Brant: You’re welcome. Great name, by the way.
Brant: What color are you wearing today? Yes, it’s important.
Brant: Answer me, Cherry.
Brant: Please.
Averill: Hey, will you call me when you have a chance? I have an important question to ask you. Love you.
Brant: Did I piss you off? Shit. I wanted to know what color you were wearing so I could send you the same color flowers. Tell me your favorite flower instead. Wait, is it a cherry blossom? Get it, cherry blossom, Cherry?
Brant: I’m lame. I’m sorry. But I’m sending you flowers.
Brant: If you don’t respond in ten minutes, I’m leaving this meeting and coming to T&T.
Looking at the clock, I see I have less than two minutes to answer him. Knowing him like I do, I know he’s serious. Typing out a quick reply, I press send with seconds to spare.
Me: Don’t you dare come here!
Me: I was busy finding a place to display A.J.
Brant: I was worried and may have overreacted.
Me: You think?
Brant: A little.
Me: Lilacs and lilies.
Brant: Storing your answer away for future reference. I’m glad you like A.J. I have to go now. See you on Friday.
Me: Bye, Ace.
Brant: Bye, Cherry.
What in the world? If this is any indication of how our relationship is going to be, I’m not positive I’m equipped to handle it. He was worried, I know, but giving a person ten minutes to reply before coming to their aide is a tad rash, not to mention in-fucking-sane. I’ve had enough of controlling men in my life.
It’s day two into our new normal and my head is spinning—and not in a pleasant way. It was positive before the text messages, but now I’m worried. Is this how it’s always going to be? Am I always going to question his actions? Is he always going to worry something is wrong when it isn’t?
I’m not going to let my self-doubt get the better of me. No more questions. I’m done with remaining cautious about every aspect of my life.
It’s time to start living life for me.
A life out of the shadows.
One where I kiss a man in public.
One where I’m not scared of losing myself in another person.
One where I don’t run from my own shadow.
You’d think all the self-defense classes and Krav Maga—as well as the mace and gun I carry—should give me confidence. Normally they do, but since he admitted to me who his real father is, I’m a tiny bit scared. Okay, I’m scared shitless. His father did bring a serial killer back to Averill’s doorstep. Maybe it was unwillingly, but still—it was a frickin’ serial killer.
And what does Brant do exactly? Before I let myself dive in head first, I need to dip my toes into the water. Rule number one may be no public displays of affection, which is now null and void, but rule number two is him answering my questions, starting with exactly what he does for a living.
Watch out world, Tessa is about to get her groove back. Granted, I may have never actually had a groove…eh, who cares? I’m sticking with it.
I’m lost in my thoughts when the bell above the door goes off and Jasmine’s voice fills the air, welcoming the customer. Grabbing my phone, I proceed to walk back into the office where I can grab my debit card. I’m hungry and figure Jasmine can handle things around here while I step out for a bite.
“Hey, Tessa, are you by chance…Cherry?”
He didn’t—did he?
“Yeah, I am,” I reply as I stop with my back facing her.
“Okay, I’ll sign for these and bring ’em on back,” she informs me.
I’m secretly jumping up and down inside. Who doesn’t love presents? A.J. the panda was more than enough, but it seems Brant wants to shower me with gifts. The smell of lilacs hits my nose before I see them.
“How did he manage to find lilacs this time of year?” I ask no one in particular.
“Girl, I don’t know, but if you don’t want him, send him my way,” she jokes while handing me the huge vase full of deep purple lilacs.
“They’re beautiful.” Taking a moment to breathe them in, I let their aroma fill my senses. I’m instantly back in my childhood home; my daddy always had lilacs in the house in the springtime. “The panda was one thing, but the lilacs? Yeah, these are definitely the icing on the cake.”
Turning, I place them on the counter behind the register, where I’ll be able to see them all day.
“Jasm
ine, I’m going to run out and grab a bite to eat. Would you like anything?”
“No thanks, Cherry,” she quips.
“Smartass.”
Choosing not to give her an explanation of the nickname, I grab my debit card and am out the door. I’m not only going to grab lunch, I’m going to have a delivery of my own made.
Chapter Six
Brant
Walking into my hotel suite later Monday evening, I feel like having three things: a beer, a hot shower, and Tessa. Knowing only the first two are within my reach, I opt for taking a quick shower first. The instant the hot water hits my back and the steam fills my lungs, I’m at ease.
The meeting with the lawyers today went on for hours and absolutely nothing was accomplished. Everything we discussed went in circles. Martinelli wants nothing to do with the actual legal part of his business therefore he leaves it to me.
The stress of today was almost more than I can bear.
Four of the businesses he launders money through have been seized by the FBI. The lawyers are worried. More than worried, they’re nervous, and nervous lawyers make for dangerous business. If business is tough, it makes things worse for me.
Why?
Because I’m the reason the businesses were seized.
I’m the person who’s ratting them out to the FBI, and we all know what happens to a rat in Martinelli’s world, even one who shares his blood. It didn’t stop him from having my half-brother Vinny killed, and it certainly won’t stop him from having a bastard son like me killed.
I’ve been feeding Justin as much information as I can, whenever I can. Since the day I went to him to tell him about Rhys’s connection to Smith, I’ve been spilling my guts. Deep down, I knew it’d take at least two years or more to take down Martinelli’s operation from the inside out, and my remaining time is severely limited. I’m not staying a day over my ten-year penance. I’ve been giving enough information, and I plan on leaving the FBI with the mother lode when I’m free.
Choosing to wash the thoughts of today down the drain, I let images of Tessa take over. Visions of her flood my mind: the way her sapphire eyes shine when she laughs…the way her laugh appears to flow out of her like a purr. If I have anything to say about it, she’ll purr often. The taste of her on my lips…how they taste of the sweetest, ripest cherries. Whenever I kiss her, the flavor explodes on my tongue. I’d never have guessed a spitfire like her would taste of cherries. It was a welcome surprise—it happens to be my favorite fruit. Spending more time with her as of late, I’ve learned where the taste comes from: cherry-flavored lip balm.
The thought of tasting her lips again has me hard in an instant. Who I am kidding? I’ve been in a constant state of arousal since the day she crashed into my life with her snappy comebacks and midnight black tresses. What I wouldn’t give to feel said hair wrapped around my wrist as her bee-stung lips take my length inside. Would she be able to handle all of me, or would she choke? Reaching down, I stroke my length once, twice before a moan escapes.
What I’m doing is wrong, I know this, but it doesn’t stop me from imagining Tessa’s lips wrapped around my shaft as I stroke…and stroke…and stroke. Her smoky voice fills my mind, her words a jumbled mess of, Take me, Ace, fuck me, Ace, don’t stop, Ace. Before I know it, my cum is jetting in thick streams from my cock, washing down the drain.
I’m spent, mentally and physically exhausted.
Leaning against the shower wall, it takes me a few minutes to recover, the water turning cool before I’m coherent enough to grab the soap to wash away the grime of the day.
Turns out, a cool shower is exactly what I needed after jacking myself to completion.
Now to check off the second thing on my list: a beer. Reaching for the phone on the nightstand, I place a call to room service. A cheeseburger sounds fucking fantastic, too.
After placing my order for a sixer and a lonely bacon cheeseburger, I grab my briefcase. Might as well go over whatever meager notes I managed to take during today’s meetings. Meetings—witch-hunts would be more accurate. Maybe I should toss them all to the side and check in with Justin. He’s been calling me non-stop now for the last week, and I’ve yet to return his frantic calls. To be honest, I’m shocked he hasn’t shown up at my hotel. The last time I ignored his incessant calls, he was waiting for me on my doorstep.
Yeah, he lives next door.
And yeah, I’m in another state at the moment.
It doesn’t mean he couldn’t still show his face. The only reason I’m certain he hasn’t yet is because several in Martinelli’s administration know who he is. They’ve had him marked as an agent for a while now. It’s been brought up in several meetings, questions raised as to why I haven’t moved to another condo, one where an FBI agent who happens to be my age isn’t my neighbor.
I’ve been able to keep my friendship with him a secret. Thank fuck. I’m sure if anyone knew about it, I’d have eaten a bullet by now. It’s why when I do meet with him, one of us is always in disguise, or he uses the key I gave him and sneaks into my condo in the middle of the night.
Mikey, a co-worker of mine—actually he was the one who ended up caught in the crosshairs of the shitstorm Rhys was tangled up in—caught sight of him as he was attempting to leave my house one night. He didn’t see his face, because I did the only thing I could think of to throw Mikey off—I kissed Justin.
Motherfucker kissed me back.
I should’ve known then he enjoyed male company, but it wasn’t until Rhys’s wedding that I figured it out. Him bringing a hulk of a man as his date was a rather strong sign he clearly likes cocks instead of the sweet heaven of a pussy—or who knows? He may like both. Maybe someday I’ll ask him, but I’m never ever bringing up the subject of our kiss. Hell, I could be drunk out of my mind from a whole bottle of whiskey and stay mum. My lips will remain firmly sealed.
Mikey was stunned and never said a word about catching a man at my place in the middle of the night, and Justin never mentioned it either. Hopefully, they’ll both take the secret to their graves, not because I’m ashamed of it—far from it—I just prefer the faces I kiss to have less facial hair.
A solid knock on the door alerts me to the arrival of my room service. I was focused on my thoughts longer than I thought.
Only it isn’t room service I see when I peek through the peephole on the door.
It’s Tessa. Without a moment’s hesitation, I undo the bolt and fling the door open.
“Cherry, what brings you by?” Did my thoughts conjure her up?
She storms into my suite before answering and starts frantically pacing from one side of the space to the other.
“I know we don’t have plans for a few days, and this is only, what, day one apart? But still, here I am feeling all clingy, because you sent me a damn stuffed panda.” She stops mid-tirade, spins on her impossibly high heels, and proceeds to poke me in the chest. “And as if the panda wasn’t enough, what did you do? I’ll tell you what you did—you somehow found lilacs and had those delivered, even though they’re not in season.” I go to speak, but she silences me with her death stare. “I’m not done, nooo, because you sent one more thing, didn’t you? Yep, you sure as frick did. And what was it, you may ask? A box full of enough cherry lip balm to last me for life—for my grandchildren’s lives.”
She stops her pacing and stares directly into my eyes. Her piercing azure gaze feels like a jolt to my heart. I’m holding in my smirk because I know if I let it loose, she’ll maim me.
“Ace, I’m trying here—truly trying here. When I gave you my answer, it was an honest one. I don’t need you to buy my affections, and trust me, I don’t want to feel like I’ve been bought. Wooing me is one thing, a small gift here and there, but three huge gifts in one day is a tad excessive.”
She has me there. It is excessive, but I wanted her to know she means something to me. I wanted her to know this isn’t a fading thing. Grabbing her hand, I pull her into my arms, and she lands on my chest with
a soft thud.
“I can’t promise to back off.” Kiss. “But only because I have more deliveries already scheduled.” Kiss. “Not to mention the fact that I don’t want to back off.” Kiss. “Tomorrow, be ready for two deliveries.” Kiss. “And I believe…” I have to think for a moment—I honestly think I have four scheduled. Oh, shit. Better lean in for another kiss before dropping the bomb. Kiss. “It’s four the next day.” Kiss.
“Brant, stop kissing me. It’s making me lose track of my thoughts. You know damn well it’s fucking with me, and you’re using those magic lips of yours to your advantage. Stop it.”
She’s struggled out of my arms and has begun pacing the same eight-step path she was a few minutes ago. Walk eight steps forward, turn around, eight steps back. Repeat, repeat, repeat. After another few minutes of pacing, she breaks her silence.
“Fine. Fine, fine, fine. I’ll accept the gifts—this time, but know this, Brant Ashley: I’m not some dime-store hooker you can find on any street corner and buy their affections. My affections will be earned, not bought. Mark my words, because I have a feeling you’ll need to remember them in the future: buying me gifts will not make me love you. Being you will do just fine.”
“Oh, I have no need to mark them down, Cherry. I’m hearing them loud and clear.”
And then I do what I’ve been waiting mere hours to do but feels like days: I pull her back into my arms and kiss her senseless.
Mm, cherries.
The next morning as I’m sitting in yet another meeting with the lawyers, my phone dings with a text message. Glancing down, I see it’s from Justin, not Tessa like I was hoping.