by RC Boldt
I make a sound of faux dismay. “Some guy?”
Sarah presses a kiss to my cheek before huskily whispering, “He’s my favorite guy,” before backing away and unwrapping her favorite chocolate. Removing the small candy from the foil, she reads the brief message written on the inside of the wrapper, and her eyes turn soft. Curiously, I turn her hand holding the foil wrapper toward me to read it.
Make love your main adventure.
Meeting her eyes, I catch sight of something indecipherable in the depths. Casually, I toss out, “I’d say we’ve had a few adventures together so far.”
Shit. What the hell am I saying? She’s going to think I’m saying we love each other. And she doesn’t love me. I mean, I can’t… I don’t… Fuck.
“Yes, we sure have.” Her voice draws me from my thoughts. She takes a small bite of the chocolate and then offers it to me. Taking her wrist in my grasp, I bring it to my lips. Biting into it, I brush my lips against her fingers. My eyes lock on hers, and I hear the slight intake of breath, the way her lips part.
“Holy hell. I think I just got pregnant watching that go down.”
We turn to find Maggie peering at us, her eyes dancing with mischief. “We’re heading home, so you crazy kids be safe.” She leans in to hug Sarah goodbye before kissing me on the cheek.
“Thanks, man.” Ry slaps a hand on my shoulder, shaking my hand, and then gives Sarah a quick kiss on her cheek. As he backs away, grinning, he nods to Sarah. “Don’t let this guy get you into too much trouble.”
Slowly but surely, the rest of our group divides up into the We’re calling it a night or We’re hitting another bar before bidding their goodbyes. Soon, it’s only me and Sarah. When she moves to shift herself off my lap with the intent of taking a seat in the now-available chair beside me, my hand tightens its hold on her hip.
“Stay.” I lower my face, nuzzling her neck. “I like you here.”
I feel the slight vibrations in her throat from her easy, soft laughter. “I like it, too. But…” She trails off, and I raise my head, meeting her gaze in question. “I’d like to head home.”
My stomach plummets while, simultaneously, it feels as though a thousand-pound weight puts immense pressure on my chest because, well… I’d hoped we’d head home together—that we’d end the night together.
That’s what I get for being presumptuous.
“Oh. Yeah, of course.” I make a show of checking my watch for the time. “It is pretty late, now that you mention it. You probably want to—”
“Jack.” My eyes meet hers, and she offers a gentle smile. “I meant I’d like to go home, back to my place.” There’s a brief pause. “With you.”
“With me,” I repeat like an idiot, a dawning smile spreading my face.
“With you.”
And the painful tightness in my chest mysteriously subsides.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Sarah
“Did you have fun tonight?”
I’m curled up against Jack’s side, his arm wrapped around me as we take the short cab ride back to my place. With a laugh, I say, “It was interesting, that’s for sure.” Once I relay the stories from the wine bar, Jack’s still chuckling by the time we pull up outside my apartment.
After we’re inside and I’ve locked up, the mood shifts. Leaning back against opposite walls in my entryway, we remove our shoes. As soon as my second heel drops to the floor, Jack’s on me, crowding me in the most delicious way. His palms brace flat against the wall on either side of me. He drags his lips down my cheek, over my jaw, and down my neck before inhaling deeply.
“Are you smelling me, Westbrook?” I try to tease him, but my voice sounds more breathless than anything.
“Stop.” I can feel him smile against my skin. “You’re ruining the moment.” He trails tender kisses along the column of my throat.
I raise my hands, fingers sliding through his hair and gently tug him up to meet my eyes. Staring back at me in the dimly lit apartment, I swear there’s a hint of something different in his gaze. Something deeper. Something we haven’t embarked on before.
The corners of his lips lift slightly, and he brings the pad of his thumb up to toy with my bottom lip. Still holding my gaze, he whispers, “I missed you tonight, Sunshine.”
His hand shifts, his thumb sweeping across my cheekbone as his head descends, giving me what must be the most tender kiss I’ve ever had. No tongue, just the barest, featherlight touch of his lips to mine.
I swear I can feel it all the way to my heart.
Suddenly, I’m desperate for more. I tug him closer, angle my head to take over the kiss and deepen it, a driving need propelling me with each swipe of my tongue against his. That need increases with each gliding stroke of my hands over his back as I feel the play of his muscles. He presses closer between my legs, rocking against me, and his mouth swallows my moan. My body arches into his as my hands make their way between us to unfasten his pants, reaching inside to grasp his hardening cock.
Taking him firmly in my hand, I stroke him, feeling him grow harder in my palm. When he thrusts into my touch, it sends another surge of heat to my core as I continue to work him with my hand.
One of his palms slaps against the wall beside my head, and he tears his lips from mine, his breathing heavy and ragged as he presses wet kisses along my neck and throat.
“That feels so damn good, Sunshine,” he grits out; his breathing becomes more staggered, and I can tell he’s close. In fact, the knowledge that he’s close to coming makes me so wet; it feels like I’ve practically flooded my panties.
Oh shit. My entire body goes rigid in alarm. In fear. In mortification.
Breaking the kiss, my eyes grow wide, and I push him away from me. “Oh shit.” I don’t want to look down…but I know I have to.
Please let it not be there, please let it not be there, please let it not be there, I mentally chant. Maybe I got lucky.
But when I look down at the knee he’d pressed against me, to the center of my thighs, even in the dim lighting I see it. The tiniest spot of moisture on his pants.
Slapping my hands over my face, I blurt out hurriedly, “OhmygodI’msosorry!” With a wince, I peek out from between my fingers. “Why don’t you go to my laundry room and grab the stain stick while I, uh, do my thing in the restroom real quick.” Backing away from him, I practically sprint to my bathroom and lock myself in.
Reaching below the sink for what I need, I quickly strip myself of my panties before taking care of things and decide to toss the poor underwear in the trash. It’s not a newer pair, and I really don’t want to bother with getting blood stains out.
Cracking the door open before tiptoeing back into my bedroom and rummaging through my dresser drawer for some boyshort panties, a pair of sweatpants, and a T-shirt, I trade out my dress and bra and pull on the comfortable clothing.
Inhaling a fortifying breath, I head down the hall to see if Jack’s still here. When I find him sitting on my couch, one arm draped across the back, casual as can be, I’m not sure if I’m happy he’s hung around or disappointed he’s still here and I have to face him.
His eyes flick over me from head to toe, and it feels like a caress. “That’s a decidedly more comfortable look.” The corners of his mouth tip up. “It’s cute.”
Cute. Just what every woman wants to hear. Then again, I practically Scarlet Letter’d the poor guy…or you could say I pulled a stunt from the movie SuperBad. Either way, mortification is hanging over me like a dark cloud.
“So…” With an overly bright expression, I gesture casually. “Do you happen to know the last time you were about to get your rocks off?” I barely pause before continuing, my words coming out rapid fire. “And oh, you know, the girl’s menstrual cycle starts, and she gets a little”—my hands rest on top of my head, and I direct my gaze to my ceiling, my voice faint and weary, trailing to a whimper-like whisper—“blood on your pants?”
The silence hangs between us, awkwardness gro
wing exponentially until he finally speaks.
“Sunshine.” I don’t move, continuing to stare up at the ceiling as though it’s my job. “Look at me.”
“I can’t. I’m currently attempting to stare a hole into the ceiling because tipping my head at this angle will allow me to survive a bit longer when the full flood of embarrassment comes rushing in to drown me.”
I swear I hear him chuckle softly. “Please look at me.”
“Did you use the stain stick?” I refuse to move my eyes from the ceiling. In fact, I’m pretty sure I detect the slightest discoloration in that one corner. A sign of water damage, perhaps? I should tell my landlord.
“I don’t care about my damn pants, Sarah.”
Shit. He’s using my name instead of calling me Sunshine. He means business now.
I hear him shift, and before I know it, he scoops me up and carries me over to the couch. Once I’m situated on his lap, he lifts my chin with his finger, directing me to meet his eyes. “Don’t hide from me.”
With an eye roll, I blow out a breath. “Fine. Quick conversation.”
“Okay.”
“I say I’m sorry for, uh, marking you, and you say, no worries, it—”
“It’s only a pair of jeans and—”
“And I say, hey, would you like to pig out on my ‘menstrual snacks’ with me, which consists of chocolate and salt and vinegar chips? Not at the same time but definitely partaking in both because that’s what I crave during this time and—”
“Salt and vinegar chips are my favorite.” His words are spoken so tenderly and sweetly that it gives me pause.
“Really?” I pause for a beat. “You’re not just saying that?”
He gives me one of those smiles, and I suddenly realize it’s special because it has a different quality to it. It’s not the smile he gives Ry or Maggie or the waiter when he thanks them for refilling his water. No, this smile is different.
It’s a smile he only gives me.
“Really, Sunshine.” Pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, he adds, “Now, go get those menstrual snacks.”
Slipping off his lap, I make my way to the kitchen, and he calls out to me. “Any chance there might be some ‘menstrual snuggling’ on the menu tonight, too? ’Cause I might be feeling kinda crampy myself.”
Damn smartass.
But I find myself smiling like a fool the entire time I gather the snacks in my kitchen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Sarah
Two weeks later
I’ve been spending my day getting all the items on my list to prepare for Maggie and Ry’s upcoming nuptials. I swear, I was about to run out of lotion, mascara, foundation, and my favorite eye shadows all at once and, with the chance that my work schedule might throw things off, I decided to take advantage of my day off to get things squared away.
As I’m exiting the final store, I realize I’m standing across the street from the building where Jack rents space for his office.
Hesitating as I peer up at the second floor where his office is located, I waver between wanting to stop by and see him and the uncertainty in doing so because, let’s be honest—dropping by unexpectedly and unannounced would be a girlfriend thing to do, and Jack and I are not together in any capacity.
As I shake off the idea, I feel the telltale vibrating in my purse signaling an incoming call. “Please let it not be work calling me in,” I mutter to myself. Instead, I see Jack’s name on the caller ID.
“I was just thinking about you,” I say in greeting.
“Really?” his deep voice questions. “I hope you were thinking good things.”
“Actually, I was finishing up some errands and ended up outside Putnam’s.” Putnam’s is known to have the best salads around.
“I was about to order from there. I’m stuck here for a while longer and want to make some more headway before I call it a day.” He hesitates. “Why don’t you tell me what you want, and I’ll call in the order for us? My treat. You can bring it over and keep me company for a bit?”
“Are you sure?”
“Sunshine.” His voice drops deeper, huskier. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
“Are you sure you’re not simply curious whether my vagina will accidentally FaceTime you again?”
A loud gasp sounds from behind me, and I turn to see a nun.
“Oh holy shit!” I clap a hand over my mouth in horror. “I mean, I’m so sorry, ma’am. I mean, Sister!”
Recognition hits, and I realize this is the same nun I saw when I was with Clint. And she’s overheard me mentioning something about my vag in public. Yet again.
I’m convinced God has it out for me. This must be a sign or something, right?
With a look of pure disgust, she stalks off quickly while Jack laughs in my ear. Staring up at the sky, I groan. “Why me?” Then to Jack, I offer, “Still want to eat dinner with a sinner?”
“Absolutely.”
“Call in the goat cheese and walnut salad with raspberry vinaigrette, please.”
“On it. See you in a few, Sunshine.”
* * *
“That totally hit the spot.” I’ve made myself comfortable in one of his cushy office chairs. “Thanks for dinner.”
“My pleasure.” He gathers our plastic containers and disposes of them in the trash bin beside his desk. “So are you all ready for Maggie and Ry’s big day?”
“Definitely.”
I rise to my feet, really taking the time to peruse his office space. It’s on the smaller side but not cramped. A good-sized conference room table is off to one side with a few rolling office chairs pushed in around it. His desk sits on the opposite side of the room, closer to the set of large windows overlooking South Broadway Avenue.
“I like your office.” I turn to lean back against the conference table and draw in a sharp breath when I find him in close proximity.
“Yeah?” He dips his head, dusting a soft kiss to the side of my jaw. “I like you in my office.” His hands grip my hips, lifting me to sit on the table. He steps between my legs, the flowing fabric of my dress not providing any restriction. A large palm skims up my knee to my upper thigh, causing my breath to hitch.
“This isn’t the type of business you normally conduct at this table, is it?” I whisper huskily.
His lips curve against mine. “Sadly, no.” He playfully tugs at my bottom lip with his teeth. “But what I can tell you is the only business I’m conducting with you is pleasure.”
“Are you sure about—” His hand at my thigh slides over to cup me intimately, cutting off my teasing words.
“Oh, I’m sure,” he whispers before his mouth crashes down on mine. His fingers slip beneath my panties, dipping inside to find me already wet.
A groan rumbles deep within his chest as the kiss turns even hotter, our tongues sparring while two of his fingers pump in and out of me. My fingers frantically work at his belt and practically tear at the button and zipper in my desperation to get my hands on him. The moment I slip my hand inside his boxer briefs and his pulsing arousal is in my grasp, I revel in his slight moan against my mouth.
Tearing his lips from mine, he rests his forehead against my shoulder, pressing tiny kisses to my exposed collarbone. “You’re so fucking wet.” He thrusts his fingers deep, hooking them, and I suck in a ragged breath as my climax nears.
“I want you to come, Sunshine.” His breathing is ragged and harsh like my own.
“I want you to come with me.”
“I’m close,” he whispers against my neck before his tongue darts out to taste me. His pumping fingers combined with the way he’s thrusting into my hand pushes me closer to the edge. My inner muscles clench around his fingers, my body tensing right as my orgasm hits.
“Jack, I’m co—”
“Hey, stranger! How’s—Oh shit!” Jack and I jerk apart just before we hear the door to his office slam closed, a trail of cuss words in its wake.
Jack’s still standing between
my legs, his pants around his ankles, his arousal still apparent even as he attempts to tuck it back into his underwear with extreme care, wincing slightly.
“Oh boy,” I say with a sigh, gazing up at him.
He offers me a weak smile. “Sorry about that. Clients never stop by here unexpectedly, but apparently, my best friend decided to do so.” He leans his forehead against mine with a low groan. “Right in the midst of one of the hottest fucking moments of my life.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Oh, Jack.” He lifts his head slightly, and I press my lips to his. “Seems like a trend with us, doesn’t it?” He only offers me a weak smile.
“Think maybe the universe is trying to tell us something?”
Before he can answer me, there’s a knock on the door before Ry’s voice calls out, “Can I come in? Sorry for barging in. I’ve never…yeah. Um, are you two decent?”
Jack hurriedly fastens his pants, and I smooth down my dress before slipping off the table and heading over to the chair where my purse and bags sit.
“I’m going to head out. I’ll catch up with you later.”
Avoiding his eyes, I rush out the door, offering a rushed greeting to Ry as I practically sprint down the hall to the elevators.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Jack
“Well, that was certainly quite the greeting,” Ry remarks. “I avoid looking your way when we change in the locker room at the gym, but I’ve inadvertently caught glimpses here and there. It’s definitely not as jarring as catching you with your pants at your ankles while you’re with Sarah.”
When I don’t respond, he continues with, “Which reminds me, I guess since she doesn’t have an older brother or dad around that I should officially give you the ‘what’s what.’ Should I call you over for a man-to-man chat and polish my shotgun while we talk?”
I let out a grunt in disbelief. “You don’t even own a shotgun, Ry.”
He crosses his arms and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Or so you think.” Then he tips his head to the side in thought. “I could tell you I know people in Little Italy who will break your kneecaps if you hurt her—”