by Anita Claire
The Princess of Silicon Valley – Book 2
Kiss Me in Silicon Valley
The Juliette Trilogy
By
Anita Claire
Kiss Me in Silicon Valley
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Editing by Lisa Cerasoli
Cover design by Robin Ludwig Design Inc., http://www.gobookcoverdesign.com/
Text copyright © Anita Claire 2014, All rights reserved
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – Cassie’s Entertaining Again
Chapter 2 –The Beautiful Stroke
Chapter 3 – Swimmer Brunch
Chapter 4 – Who’s that Guy?
Chapter 5 – Sneaking Around
Chapter 6 – Cassie Gets Lucky
Chapter 7 – Choosing Guys
Chapter 8 - Vajazzeld
Chapter 9 – Meeting with Flint
Chapter 10 – Girl Talk
Chapter 11 – Princess Reconnaissance
Chapter 12 – Programmer Party
Chapter 13 – Hiking at Rancho
Chapter 14 – Slide Show
Chapter 15 – Dinner with Cassie
Chapter 16 – Date with Zach
Chapter 17 – Running with Meredith
Chapter 18 – Thanksgiving at Meredith’s
Chapter 19 – Thanksgiving with the Family
Chapter 20 – Hiking with the Family
Chapter 21 – Surfing with Gray
Chapter 22 –The Next Day
Chapter 23 – Drinks
Chapter 24 – Dinner
Appendix – A - Books in “The Princess of Silicon Valley” series
Appendix – B- Characters
Author’s Note
Chapter 1 – Cassie’s Entertaining Again
Shit. One second I’m sleeping peacefully in bed, the next…. With my eyes closed, I can tell something’s off. Did I oversleep? What woke me? Damn. I was so relaxed when I drifted off last night. After stressing out about dating two different guys, I’ve finally come to a resolution. What’s a fantasy for many women creates way too much internal conflict for me. I’m an engineer; I like my life simple, structured, and predictable.
That thought flows through my mind while a loud scream shoots me into the present. I quickly register what’s happening in the room next to mine when another loud scream makes me jump. Now that I’m awake, I know it’s my roommate and her boyfriend, Luke Tomlin. Yeah, that Luke Tomlin—the gorgeous guy that plays professional football. They’ve been seeing each other for about a month; at times like this—at three in the morning—it feels like it’s been a lot longer. They spend most of their time at his place, thankfully. Cassie wasn’t home when I went to bed. With my busy life I was looking forward to a good night’s sleep. But, I can hear Cassie getting instructive in the room next to mine. Unfortunately for me Luke has a lot of stamina; they must be moving directly to round two. Cassie yells out, “No, lower, lower, yes, Oh yeah, there, YES.” I’m hoping instructions are over when I hear her pant out “Give it to me again; I want it, yes, now, again.” I internally roll my eyes as I throw my pillow over my head to block out some of the noise. It makes me just want to scream back at them, “Would you just give it to her, already? I want to sleep!”
Having no desire to be a passive voyeur, listener, or whatever I now am, I don’t even bother turning on the light as I get up and feel around for my purse, grabbing my earbuds from it. Then I fumble around to find the port so I can stick them into my phone. I hope my favorite Pandora channel will be distracting enough to mask what’s going on in the next room. Unfortunately this isn’t the first time Cassie’s sexcapades have woken me up. For some reason I managed to get through four years of college and two years of grad school without ever being woken up by other people having sex. Were our dorms better constructed or is Cassie just louder, wilder, and takes longer than all the kids I went to school with?
It feels like only a minute later when the alarm wakes me. I stare at the ceiling, maybe I should skip swimming today, it’s not like I have to go. I’m not falling back asleep, that’s clear. I might as well work out.
As I pack my swim bag the doorbell rings. This is unusual. It’s seven thirty in the morning…? I open the door to…Luke Tomlin.
If he’s at my front door, then who’s in bed with Cassie?
With a thundering shout, I say, “LUKE! HELLO! Is Cassie expecting you?” I turn my head towards the bedrooms, hoping Cassie can head this one off as I continue with, “She’s probably still ASLEEP!”
Luke isn’t the friendliest or most communicative guy. He grumbles, “I got back late last night.”
Okay, so the guy in Cassie’s bed is definitely not Luke, a fact that doesn’t take a genius to figure out. My mind is working at a million miles a minute. Even though I think Cassie should stew in the pot she created, I don’t want any fighting to take place here. Plus, I’ve always lived my life with a strong girl code. I feel like it’s my civic duty to have my friends back and I expect them to have mine too. Unable to think of what else to say, I blurt out as loud as I can, “So, Luke, where were you?!”
He responds with an annoyed look.
I’m blocking the front door, and realize that he’s trying to figure out how to enter the condo without physically moving me. But from the look on his face, physically moving me doesn’t seem to be out of the question.
He finally barks, “Can you move? I need to get in.”
Flustered, I slowly step to the side.
In my last attempt to save Cassie, I call out shrilly, “I don’t know if you want to head back there. I’m sure Cassie’s still sleeping!” This doesn’t stop him, so I give it one more shot. “Luke, can I get you something?! Like coffee or maybe some juice?!”
He looks back at me with eyes squinting in annoyance. With an irritated shake of his head, he heads back to Cassie’s room.
Crap. I suddenly remember that my swim bag is still in my bathroom. Yet, I’m kind of afraid to go down the hall. What will Luke do when he finds the guy from last night in her bed? What if he has a gun? What if he goes into a blind rage, kills them both, then decides to hunt me down? My imagination spins wildly out of control as I hear him close her door. Cautiously I peer around the corner, staring down the hall, nothing is happening. No noise, no fireworks, nothing. Are all three of them now in her room? Did he just jump into a three-way? What if they invite me to join? Yikes! That would be even freakier than my first possible scenario…. I better get out of here quickly. Who knows what I’ll dream up next.
Quietly, tip-toeing down the hall to grab my bag, I pause for a couple seconds, just to listen—morbid curiosity overrides ridiculous fear. Not a single noise is coming from Cassie’s room. This is dumbfounding. What could be happening? I don’t have time to find out what’s going on; I’m already late!
I rush out the door. A black SUV parked across the street catches my eye. The driver’s door is open; that’s strange. Even weirder, there’s a man standing by it, not wearing a shirt, while hoisting up his jeans.
Holy shit! This must be Cassie’s hook-up, damn…I chuckle, mystery solved.
As I hike over to the pool I contemplate, why would she be sleeping around while dating Luke? Cassie and I are polar opposites. Her thought processes confound me. I freaked
this past weekend when I had dates with two different guys, and we didn’t even kiss. Meanwhile she has guys rotating in and out of her bed.
I can’t wait to hear her story when I get home.
Chapter 2 –The Beautiful Stroke
Near the end of swim practice, I notice that there’s a lot of commotion around lanes seven and eight where the fast guys swim. Straining to see what’s going on, I look over just in time to watch two large bodies glide through the air, arms streamlined over their heads, hands crossed, gracefully breaking the water. Both swimmers undulate under the water, their heads emerge followed by the rotation of their arms synchronized together. They’re swimming fly. Each of them has a stroke that is so smooth it looks like they are hardly working, though I know how exhausting fly can be. It’s hard to tell who’s in which lane. They’re pacing each other. Their long lean bodies effortlessly flow in and out of the water. The strain of the activity, and the flexibility in the rotation of their shoulders shows. Every one of their muscles is pumped, carved, and highlighted.
They take a smooth twist turn, pushing off the wall; their bodies ripple through the water as they each come up to take their first stoke at nearly the middle of the pool—heads first, then their strong toned arms straining with activity, rotate. They’re neck and neck as they head towards us, twist turn, and swim another length. Pulling myself out of the pool, I take off my swim cap and goggles as I join the crowd forming around the fast lanes. Watching them swim, it’s obvious why they call the stroke fly. They look like giant birds flying through the water. On the last turn, I can see them straining; their muscles defined and taut as they each work hard to beat the other guy. They reach the end of the pool, almost a photo finish, but the guy in lane seven beats the guy in lane eight, by only a hands length.
Coach Chris has been timing the challenge. He’s standing in front of the lanes yelling, “You two were both under a minute. Wow. Considering you didn’t take off from the blocks, you’re near the fifty-five seconds it takes to qualify for the Olympic trials.” I’m astounded by how fast their times are. Michael Phelps is the only person to have ever swum a hundred meter fly in less than fifty seconds. Keeping my focus on both men, I’m watching them breathe hard. The guy in lane seven rips off his goggles, he whips his head around to get his hair out of his eyes. He has a big smile on his face, a smile that ends in a dimple: it’s Zach. Watching from the deck, I see Zach turn to Kevin, who was swimming in lane eight.
In a strong voice, he razzes him. “Hey, I see you went on vacation the last twenty-five.”
They both dunk once under the water. I know that feeling. Your face is so hot from the swim you need to cool off in the water. In one easy pull-up, they’re out of the pool and on the deck laughing. My eyes are glued to Zach’s body. Every time he breathes, I can see the outline of his ab muscles, all of them, they look perfectly shrink-wrapped by his skin. As my eyes move up his torso, I gaze at his well-defined chest, lightly covered in hair. His arm and shoulder muscles are pumped from his recent activity. On his left arm, there’s a Cal tattoo. My entire body has goose bumps from the cold air, the thrill of watching them swim, and the beauty of his body. The crowd breaks. Zach and Kevin start heading to the locker room. As I stand on the deck, Zach’s eyes meet mine. He nods his head and gives me a cute half smile. Smiling back, I try to play it cool as my insides swoon. Which brings up my current self-imposed conflict, it’s between two guys: Zach, and Nate, the doctor I met at my soccer game last month. Whichever guy I’m with is the guy I want; which is causing me a great deal of emotional turmoil.
Chapter 3 – Swimmer Brunch
After workout, Amanda, Kevin’s girlfriend, and I are in the locker room getting dressed.
“Are you joining us for breakfast?” she asks.
“Sweet, I’d like that.” I answer.
We head out of the locker room together. Zach, and his friends, Austin, and Kevin, are sitting on the decorative wall waiting for us.
Kevin says, “Should we even discuss where we’re going or should we just head over to Crepevine?”
“That works for me.” Austin says, as everyone else nods. Austin stands up and groans, “I have to go back to work after breakfast, my project’s a mess. I’m turning into a typical Silicon Valley REU.”
“REU?” Amanda questions.
“Replaceable Engineering Unit.” Kevin explains.
After breakfast, Zach just naturally starts walking me home. Giving him a sweet flirty smile, he returns it with one of his own, while he takes my hand in his. This leaves me wondering if I’m going to finally get a kiss at my door.
As we reach my place, he turns to face me. I can feel my breath turn slow and deep in anticipation. He tips my chin up with his index finger. Our eyes connect, while his thumb lightly brushes my cheek. This simple movement creates a cavalcade of sexual energy flowing from my face, past my ears, down through my neck, shoulders, and core. His expression is serious. His gray eyes sear into my brain, as he looks at my lips which part in anticipation. He slowly moves his head, meeting my lips lightly. Gently he grazes my bottom lip. Gasping, l close my eyes, expecting this will be all I get. I’m surprised as he repeats the movement, lightly kissing my lower lip again. Feeling slightly more pressure, he moves to gently kiss my upper lip, and then lightly his tongue flickers over my lower lip. I respond by gently kissing his upper lip. He then kisses my lower lip. We get in a slow sweet rhythm, just lightly kissing each other. I relax my arm, allowing my swim bag to run down it, until it drops to the ground. Now free, I trail my hand gently up his arm, my fingers take their time feeling his warm skin and enjoying the ridges of his muscles. My hand comes to a stop under the cotton of his T-shirt, directly on his bicep. My thumb rests on the bulge of the muscle. My fingers feel the indentation as I enjoy the warmth of his skin. I lean a little closer, resting my other hand on the flat plane of his chest. This hand takes in the strong pulse of his heart, as we continue to slowly kiss.
The intensity of the kiss increases, as his tongue flicks through my parted lips and meets up with mine. The feel and taste of him is pure sex. With a strong whoosh, a path is lit up, all the way down to the bottom of my belly. I gasp while raising my hand from his arm to his head, cupping his face, while his fingers dig into my waist bringing me even closer, so close our bodies align. Unable to gage how long we’re like this, I realize both of us are breathing low and deep. Then we slowly, sweetly kiss.
At some point, Zach pulls away. Rocking slightly on my feet, he lightly chuckles as I slowly open my eyes. Staring at his lips, now swollen from my kisses, a slow, coy smile spreads across my face.
His thumb brushes my cheek and traces the contours of my lips as he clears his throat. In a deep raspy voice, he says, “Juliette.”
Moving my gaze from his mouth to his eyes, they lock. He drops his hand from my cheek. After clearing his throat one more time, he backs up a little. I smile shyly, reluctant to let go. Now it’s my turn to remove my hand from his neck and chest.
He tips his head, and in a deep quiet voice says, “I’ll text you.”
In a slow trance-like state, I nod, and then watch him turn and walk away. At the end of my block, about three townhouses down, he turns his head. Our eyes lock, and I get one of his cocky smirks.
I smile sweetly back as my brain recovers from kissing and starts processing. I’ll text you? I’ll call you? Those are the classic blow off lines. Is he blowing me off? Is he taking me seriously? Shit, I’m probably overthinking this again. I try to fill my brain with something positive and reasonable, as I my internal voice commands me to just enjoy the moment, Juliette. I turn, pick up my bag, and unlock my door.
Chapter 4 – Who’s that Guy?
Dizzy from Zach’s kiss, I enter the condo.
“Juliette, were you just kissing some guy on my front porch in broad daylight?” Cassie greets me with a lift of her eyebrow.
I gasp from surprise, my chest tightens, and suddenly I feel like a teenager caught by a par
ent.
Cassie starts laughing.
“How’d you see that?”
“Sex-dar: it’s radar that’s tuned into any form of sex. It’s a personal gift.” She gleefully explains.
“That’s some amazing talent you have. Hey, wait a second! Who was that guy in your bed this morning?”
“Oh, you don’t get to change the subject so fast, missy. You’re off kissing cute, young guys. Spill the beans. Where’ve you been, who’s the guy?”
With a naughty smile, I confess, “Zach from swimming. He walked me home after breakfast.”
With an appraising look, she says, “Well, that must have been some breakfast.”
“Yeah, I think he’s cute and sweet.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re so high school.”
“Don’t pop my balloon; I was just kissing a cute guy on our front step in broad daylight.”
“Gee, next you’ll be having sex in the back seat of a car.”
“Oh, the benefit of being out of high school—out of college—is we have bedrooms now. No uncomfortable car sex.”
“So, what happened to the last guy?”
“You mean Nate?”
“Nate? That’s the guy you were living with in London?”
“Oh, you mean Stephan? Well, that’s a great way to bring down my Zach high.”
Cassie repeats, “Stephan…is he the guy you were dating when you came to visit me in LA?”
“Yeah, that was around two years ago. Stephan and I met the first week of grad school. He was getting his MBA.”
“And…?”
“And…he was fun; interesting, worldly.”
“Blah blah blah…. How was he in the sack? Did he have money? Was he hot? Tell me something interesting.”
I roll my eyes, “Really? Who cares, he’s back in London, and thankfully I’m here. It’s not like I was looking for a husband or anything like that.”