Asking For A Friend

by Parker, Ali

  Going out with Layton on Valentine’s Day instead of staying in with them would be weird, but I’d been meaning to do the Freedom Trail and he was right, it sounded like fun. Mainly because I would be going with him.

  I loved history and the American Revolution as much as the next gal, but going on it with Layton sounded far more appealing than going only for the tour without him. My fifth grade history teacher would have smacked me over the head for having the thought, but I wanted to do the historic tour with the cute boy.

  Regardless of how much trouble I could get into, and just how much I liked the cute boy. I flashed on the memory of Denise in my kitchen telling me that perhaps Layton was worth a shot, then on the one of me arguing that it wasn’t like that.

  The truth was, I didn’t know what it was like anymore. It was true that Annie was my first priority and that I wouldn’t parade men through her life, but agreeing to the Freedom Trail with Layton was a far cry from introducing him to my daughter.

  I sighed, grabbing a file from the top of the pile nearest to me, determined to get back to work. About halfway through my initial read-through of the file to get a grip on its contents, I resolved to speak to Denise about Valentine’s Day.

  If she already had plans that weren’t just with Annie and me, I obviously wouldn’t go. But if she didn’t have any plans and if she didn’t mind watching Annie, I would go with Layton. I knew Denise would understand, just like I would if she told me she already had plans.

  After putting Annie to bed that night, I broached the topic with Denise. “Layton asked me out on Valentine’s Day.”

  She released a low whistle, looking at me over the rim of her glass. “A date on Valentine’s Day? That’s big.”

  I shrugged. “Nah, I don’t think the holiday means exactly the same thing to him as it does to us normal folk. He didn’t seem to think there would be anything special about it other than the trail gets decorated for the holiday.”

  “Who knows?” Denise laughed. “Maybe you’ll both be shot in your unromantic asses by Cupid’s arrow. It’s Valentine’s Day, definitely a special and romantic day to go on a second date.”

  “Only I won’t go if you already have plans,” I pointed out. “It’s a history tour, so we could do it another time. It’s no big deal.”

  Denise leveled me with a look that made me feel like she might shoot me in the ass with an arrow herself if Cupid didn’t get the job done. “Whatever. Don’t be a hopeless romantic who believes in happily ever after’s just this one time. I was planning on taking Annie out anyway. There’s an ice skating rink with our names on it open in the park that night.”

  “Are you sure?” I didn’t want to take advantage of Denise, but she waved me away as confidently and wholeheartedly as always.

  “Go. You don’t have to think it’s romantic if you don’t want to, but at least be open to the possibility. Have fun.”

  Open to the possibility—now there was a novel idea. Too bad I wasn’t sure if I agreed with it. Even so, I really wanted to do the trail with Layton. “Okay, you win. I’ll go. And if you’re lucky I might even keep an open mind about it.”

  Chapter 21

  Layton

  “Happy Valentine’s Day everyone,” I announced from my spot at the front of the room. The atmosphere was electric, with the excited faces of my staff smiling at me. “Thank you for being here. I hope you enjoy the party. The social committee has outdone itself this year, let’s give them a hand.”

  A round of applause sounded and the two self-appointed members of our social committee flushed happily. Both women worked on the design team, but they consulted on interior decorating from time to time.

  It showed whenever they were tasked with transforming the office into a jollier space. This year they had opted for a less garish theme than big red hearts. Fairy lights twinkled overhead, attached to the light fittings and walls.

  There were white flowers on every surface. I briefly wondered what their allocated budget had been, but then I let it go. My people worked hard. We didn’t have parties very often. When we did, it made sense to spoil them a little.

  There was an open bar set up along one side of the open plan office area, the usual tables having been moved to the side to create a large space for the party. The office lights themselves had been dimmed to maximize the effect of the fairy lights.

  The only hearts in sight were also made out of lights and were placed strategically all around the room. Their concession to incorporating red in some way was in the form of a couple of bouquets of deep red roses on the bar and at the buffet. All in all, I could see they had worked hard to make the office feel less like an office and more like a venue where one would like to have a party.

  The two women, red cheeked and smiling, each gave a small wave before turning back to me. I cleared my throat and waited for the applause to die down before continuing. “I’m not going to waste any more of your party time, so eat, drink and be merry.”

  I paused before giving them an elaborate wink to let them know I was joking. Sort of. “Most importantly, no driving. Use the service provided. Oh, and by the way, be on time tomorrow—one hour late, no more!”

  Chuckles and a collective groan traveled through the room, but the laughter let me know my quip hadn’t spoiled the mood. They knew me well enough to know it was a joke, but they also had to be on time.

  I raised the flute of champagne in my hand and watched as the room did the same before I gave them a final smile and signaled to the hired DJ to start playing. A popular song started up immediately and people started mingling.

  Two groups in the crowd converged and through the gap they created, I finally caught sight of Marissa. I drew in an involuntary, sharp breath of air at the sight of her. She looked fucking gorgeous.

  Since it was a party, everyone had changed from their work attire into casual gear. Even I had changed into jeans before coming to open the party.

  Marissa always looked good, but there something about her being dressed casually that just got to me. Almost like I was finally getting a look behind the curtain, a glimpse of the woman she was when she was relaxed at home. Since she almost always seemed a little nervous around me, it was refreshing to see her this way.

  Making my way over to where she was standing, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She wore dark blue jeans that hugged her shapely legs. Black ankle boots with a low heel adorned her feet without detracting from those calves I wanted to squeeze, just to see her reaction if I ran my hands slowly up her legs.

  The neckline of her black jersey was lower than what she usually wore at the office. There was finally more than a hint of the magnificent cleavage she tended to keep hidden from view. Little pink hearts sewed on to the material gave the black item that quirky look I’d come to expect from Marissa.

  Her golden hair was down, bright curls tumbling past her shoulders. She locked eyes with me as I approached her, that familiar nervous energy radiating from her as she watched me close the distance between us.

  When I got closer, I realized the energy coming from her tonight wasn’t so much nervous as it was sexual. The realization had the same effect as wrapping my fist around my cock. Tone it down there, Bridges.

  I couldn’t very well walk around my own office party sporting wood. Though I very much doubted I would be alone if I did. The women of the company had taken their game to the next level this year and there were already several sultry looks being exchanged.

  As stunning as they looked, none of them even came close to comparing to Marissa. My mouth was dry by the time I reached her. “You look gorgeous.”

  She ran her eyes up and down my body, nodding before returning them to mine with a radiant smile. “You’re not so bad yourself when you’re dressed down. I like it.”

  “Good.” I said, reaching out to give her hand a quick squeeze before jerking my head toward the door. “Ready to get out of here?”

  “Let’s do it,” she agreed, falling into step beside me
as we made our way out of the office.

  The Freedom Trail was an iconic two and a half mile walking tour that featured sixteen nationally significant historic sites. Traditionally, the tours took place during the day.

  On days like Valentine’s Day though, they offered tours starting later and ended with a historic pub crawl. Marissa and I talked about the trail on the way to the starting point. I would’ve liked to have surprised her with the pub crawl at the end, but I figured this way she knew I wasn’t just taking her on a long, snowy walk for our date.

  “We have a tour guide who will be dressed in an eighteenth century costume. They’ll take us to a couple of sites before we visit four pubs on Blackstone Block. According to the website, that was where the Revolution was brewed and where the players got their courage and inspiration.”

  Marissa laughed, a sound that was like music to my ears. “Figures no one would’ve been able to lead a revolution sober.”

  I shrugged, giving her a sidelong grin as I met her eyes in the rearview mirror of my car. “It’s important to take a break sometimes. Besides, you know what they say about an army.”

  “It marches on its stomach?” she said, her lips curled up at the corners. “I always thought they were referring to food.”

  I shook my head. “Nope, they were referring to beer. But don’t worry, we’ll be getting food, too. I hope, anyway. The booking agent said we’d be tasting contemporary Boston fare at the pubs we visit.”

  “Beer, food and visiting landmarks I’ve never been to.” She reached over to touch my forearm, her touch feather light. “Thanks for bringing me, Layton. This all sounds incredible.”

  That was the first time she voiced the sentiment, but as we visited the landmarks and ‘walked into history,’ as the tour was called, she echoed it many times. When we got to the old corner bookstore, Marissa gripped my hand and dragged me right to the front of our group in order to hear better.

  The guide was speaking. “It is one of the oldest structures in Boston, having been erected in 1712 by Thomas Crease.”

  Marissa listened in rapture, turning her head to look up at me when the guide was done. “Can you imagine the things those old walls have heard? I mean, she said Ralph Waldo Emerson and Charles Dickens passed through here. It’s absolutely amazing to think we’re looking at the same building they once visited.”

  Moving on, we eventually reached a circle of cobblestones in the street outside the Old State House where the guide stopped again. “This is the Boston Massacre site. On the fifth of March in 1770, British soldiers fired on a crowd here, the event which many believe was the start of the Revolutionary War.”

  Marissa stared at the cobblestones, blinking back tears. “It’s so hard to imagine a place so tranquil now was the site of so much carnage.”

  At this hour and with the frigid weather, it was surprisingly peaceful. It made it an almost reverent moment as the group quieted after the guide finished explaining the events that had transpired right where we were standing.

  Marissa hung onto my hand, letting her head rest on my shoulder. Though it was a move I wasn’t all too familiar with women making, I found myself liking that she seemed to be getting comfort from me by doing it. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded, a sad smile on her face as she kept her eyes trained on the street. “I’m fine. It’s just touching, that’s all.”

  “Yeah.” I heard myself agreeing, even though I’d never quite been as moved by the site as I was tonight. “Are you sorry we’re doing this on Valentine’s Day? The idea wasn’t to make you sad.”

  “No,” she said quickly. “No, I’m loving it. I’m really glad we’re doing this. It’s important to see these things, to remember how we got to where we are today.”

  For the rest of the tour, Marissa was quieter than usual. She never removed her hand from mine, which I was surprised to find I enjoyed. We drank our beers and thawed out in the taverns of old with Marissa slowly coming back to herself.

  By the time the tour was done, she was as bubbly as always and I hated to think it was time for our evening to end. “How about a nightcap at my place? It’s not a line, I swear. I’m just not ready to go to bed yet.”

  She smiled softly. “Okay, and I believe it’s not a line. I’m not ready to turn in yet either, so let’s have another drink.”

  When I said it wasn’t a line, I was being honest. I hadn’t invited her back to my place to fuck her. I really just wanted to spend more time with a woman whose company I enjoyed more and more each time we were together.

  Despite that, I had hardly hit the lights in my entrance when my lips were on hers and her hands were tugging on my hair. I thought about stopping the kiss to get her that drink I promised, but then a soft moan escaped from her and my good intentions vanished. It’s the thought that counts.

  Chapter 22

  Marissa

  Layton paused for just a fraction of a second and I was sure he was going to put a stop to our heated kiss. I still wasn’t sure who had initiated it or how exactly it had happened. I only knew that as soon as we stepped inside his apartment, we crashed together like magnets which had no choice but to join.

  His tongue swept into my mouth and I let out a moan, trying to store the way he tasted and the feel of his lips deep in my mind in case he stopped. In case I never got to kiss the man again.

  Suddenly, his moment of hesitation vanished. He let out a sound somewhere between a low groan and a needy growl and deepened the kiss.

  One of his hands came to my neck and cupped it at the nape, holding me to him. The other came to my cheek, his fingers brushing the edge of my hair. He tilted my head to where he wanted it, devouring me as he started walking backward and bringing me to him.

  Having never been to his apartment before, I kept expecting us to crash into something. But we didn’t. The air changed the deeper we moved into his apartment, becoming charged with the electricity building between us as we pawed at each other like horny teenagers.

  Horny teenagers who found themselves suddenly alone in a bedroom. My back hit a mattress, but before I could take a look around the room, Layton was on top of me.

  We sank into the bed kissing feverishly, hands busily exploring. I hadn’t got to touch nearly enough of him the last time we were together. I planned on changing that this time around.

  Running my hands from his hair across his shoulders, I felt my way down his muscular arms. As I’d suspected, his muscles were both bulgy and bulky. They were roped and lean.

  I allowed myself to cop a quick feel of his butt, moaning when I pushed down on it and caused him to rub up against me. He was impossibly hard from the feel of things and he hit my throbbing clit with an upward thrust that made me see stars. “Layton!”

  “I know.” He managed through gritted teeth, nipping my lower lip. Lifting his delicious weight from me, he took my hands and made me sit up on the bed. Eyes on mine, he reached for my top. Slowly, as though giving me time to give him permission, he gripped it and started raising it over my head.

  Helpfully lifting my arms, I heard him suck in a quick breath as the shirt came off. When I looked at him again, his eyes were on my bra. They were heated and hungry, like he was salivating to see what came next.

  Emboldened by the need burning in those gorgeous eyes, I reached behind my back and unhooked the clasp. I pulled the bra away from me slowly, exposing myself to him in what I hoped was a sexy, sultry move.

  When I let the bra drop to the floor, I suddenly had a fit of self-consciousness. I wasn’t lying on my back, able to stretch my arms up to relieve some of the rolls on my stomach. I was sitting up, which gave even stick figures rolls.

  Layton must have seen my hesitation, because he tore his eyes away from my torso and let me see the fire seeing me half naked had lit inside of him. He reached out and tipped my face up, his voice hoarse and rough. “You’re fucking beautiful, Marissa. Honestly, you’re gorgeous. And so fucking sexy it hurts.”

  Sincerity rang
in his words, the truth evident in his eyes and by how strained his voice was. The self-consciousness I felt disappeared, leaving nothing but desire in its wake.

  Suddenly desperate to see what he was hiding under his shirt, I took the lead by reaching for his buttons and undoing them slowly. He captured my eyes with his, holding them until I pushed the shirt off his shoulders before letting them go with a tiny smirk on his lips.

  And good god was it ever a justified smirk. The man was ripped beyond belief. His abdomen was hard and chiseled, no rolls for him. Only lines. So many lines.

  I fought the urge to lean forward and lick every damn one of them. Instead, I lay back and brought him down with me. His chest pressed up against mine, skin on skin for the first time. It was glorious. For as hard as his body was, his skin was silky soft and warm. So damn warm.

  Our kisses grew feverish again as we grappled to be the first to get the other totally naked. Layton won, but I attributed it to him having the upper hand because he was on top.

  He gave in to my silent request when I nudged his hip and hooked my leg around his narrow hips, rolling over so I was straddling him. Naked and on top, I was on display in every sense of the word.

  The self-consciousness didn’t come back though, I felt nothing but powerful. And needy. Slick with need, in fact.

  He watched with bated breath as I finally managed to free him from his jeans and underwear, lifting his hips as I lifted mine to be able to get the offending items off him. They dropped to the floor, but they could have exploded and I probably wouldn’t have noticed by then.