by Alex Grayson
"How about how I can't wait to know how it feels when I slide into you..."
"Michael, that's quite a fantasy."
"You bring it out in me."
"You speak as if we've met."
I didn't want to scare her, but God I wanted to ask her out. "No, just a fantasy."
I typed what had to be the same line for the fifth time. I was not going to get this memo to all employees done. I leaned forward and pressed my intercom. "Madeline, can you send a memo to all employees that there is an all-hands meeting on Monday at noon. We will be providing lunch. Those on-air should have enough material queued up for two hours. Those coming in on their day off will receive over-time."
"On it," Madeline confirmed.
From the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of honey-blonde hair and glanced over to see the backside of Juliet opening her studio. I checked the clock on my computer, twelve-o-two. God, it would be hours before I could call Juliet. I wanted to time it like I did last night, and call as her show was coming to an end. Then maybe, just maybe she'd have time to talk with me longer.
My day slithered by at a snail's pace. At ten, I was sitting in bed listening to the radio and constantly checking my watch. I seriously contemplated Googling Daylight Savings Time, I wanted to know if they had ganged up on me and changed it to May because I swear my clock was not turning past midnight.
But at twelve-thirty, I dialed in, when the sound manager heard my name, he asked me to hold.
I waited longer than I had last night but when the phone finally clicks, and Juliet came on, hearing her call my name was well worth the wait. "Michael."
"Hello. Do you have time to talk again?"
"I do, I was hoping you would call. It isn't often that I get to share my inner thoughts. Before we begin, may I ask you a question?"
"You can ask me anything," I assured her.
"Have we met?"
"Yes."
"Will you tell me who you are? I can't ID the voice." Thank god, I was hoping that would be the case. We hadn't spoken that much and today I had totally avoided her.
"Soon."
"Fair enough. What do you want to talk about tonight?" Juliet asked.
"Let's play a game, fill in the blanks."
"Okay?" I could hear the confusion in her voice.
"You love when I kiss..."
"Behind my ears," Juliet completed the sentence. "You like it when I..."
I loved how she instantly caught on. "Kiss down the center of my chest and follow the path to the top of my jeans. You like when I call you..."
"Love. You like it when I call you..."
I didn't have to think, it came instantly. "Mine. Your favorite position is..."
Juliet laughed. "CEO."
I chuckled. "I like a woman who knows what she wants."
"On top." She instantly picked the game back up. "Your favorite position is..."
"Inside you."
"Wow, okay. That was hot."
She was right, that was very hot, I had one hand in my sweats and stroking my cock as we talked. I imagined her lips wrapped tightly around the head and thrusting into her warm opening. Wait, which opening was I thinking about.
I stroked my hand up and down, my head lulled back as I listened to her talk.
"I think we should call it a night. It's time for me to head home. Will we talk tomorrow, Michael?"
"Yes," I panted as the need inside me built. We disconnected and I continued to stroke, up and down, imagining Juliet calling my name as she came and then I was releasing while I thought of this woman who had enchanted me.
4
Greyson
As I headed toward the elevator my heart was pounding. Why would Madeline call me and ask me to come in early? What if Greyson didn't like the job I was doing, would I lose my job without warning? I wondered if this was about Michael. He had called the station two nights in a row. The elevator opened, and I walked off. I felt like I was heading down the Green Mile. Sure this was the way to my sound studio too but that wasn't important, not now.
"Mr. Right is expecting you, go on in," Madeline informed me.
As I entered his office, the blinds were closed, which was not the norm of the last few days. Greyson Right had this presence about him, an air that seemed to radiate off him.
As I neared his desk he looked up and our eyes locked. His blue eyes were darker today than I had remembered, almost like sapphires.
He waved me closer. He was wearing a pair of glasses that he slid off as he stood.
"You wanted to see me?" I hated that my voice sounded skittish.
He signaled to a chair. "Have a seat." That single sentence sent shivers down my spine. Even though we had only spoken those first two days, there was something very familiar about Greyson.
He came around and took the seat next to me. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands folded as if in prayer. I could just see his mouth from behind his hands. God, help me not to salivate over my boss.
I followed the lean muscular curve of his forearm down to his elbow and then back up his biceps. He filled out his shirt in a very nice way.
"Juliet... Juliet." Greyson smacked his hand on his thighs. "Juliet, are you okay?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just taking this all in."
"Fair enough. I wanted to talk with you about how things are going, I've noticed you have had a rise in calls."
"Yeah, it's been nice."
"You've even had a repeat caller..." Greyson was saying something, but I was more focused on the way he was actually speaking and the way he enunciated his words. The way he said, fair enough...
"I'm sorry, sir, can you repeat that?"
"Which part?" he asked.
"The last part where you said fair enough."
"Fair enough?"
"Yeah, that's it." I totally knew that voice. "It's you. You're Michael." Greyson straightened.
"It's my middle name."
"Was this all just some test?" I was totally confused. Then, as if in reply, he reached up and cupped my face then brought his lips to mine.
"No test." He kissed me. "Oh, love." He deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside my mouth to explore. He pulled back for the briefest of a moment, and I could already feel a slight tingle from where he had kissed me. "Too fast?"
I nodded. "A little."
He pulled back. "I'll slow down."
"I didn't say that. I just said it was a little fast." This time I leaned in and initiated the kiss. He trailed his lips down my cheek and brought his lips to my ear and then softly peppered kisses behind my lobe. I squirmed. "What is this?" I asked.
"Not sure, but we'll find out together." He moved his mouth back to mine, sliding one hand to the nape of my neck, he held me close as he slowly ravaged my senses. "Juliet," he whispered. "Dear, dear, Juliet."
About Danielle
It is amazing what can happen over a glass of vodka. Danielle Norman knows all too well since that’s how she was convinced to try writing a romance novel. A few more sips and seventy-thousand words later she was falling in love.
Her books have sold in two-hundred countries and her first book in the Iron Orchids series, Ariel: Always Enough has been downloaded more than two million times. It was a bestseller on Amazon and hit #1 on Apple Book and Barnes & Noble.
Danielle embraces her motto, Romance with Attitude.
Visit her at www.daniellenorman.com
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Singles Week
Lia Fairchild
When Meg’s best friend tricks her into meeting for a singles week, she expects nothing more than mindless fun. Until a stranger across the room changes everything.
1
My face flames. How long has he been staring at me? At the other end of the bar, is confidence in a suit. Short brown hair with a slight wave on the top, intense eyes, and broad shoulders. And apparently, he likes what he sees. He grins and I return
it, feeling a flutter in my stomach. But there’s probably twenty people crammed in between him and me, so I don’t see him making the effort to come over.
He chuckles as I struggle to flag down the bartender.
I’ve been standing at the ridiculously over-crowded—and loud—bar for five minutes, trying to order drinks for Kel and me, but the bartender didn’t get the memo. This is what I get for letting Kel trick me into this singles week. She already reserved our spaces at this hotel, and I had my flight before I found out what we were doing. Girls bonding weekend, my ass. She’s in the lobby calling her office. We were about to head to a speed dating event in one of the conference rooms.
A gorgeous redhead slinks up to mystery man and speaks in his ear. Shaking his head, he says something back to her before she walks away. That’s right. He’s mine. Though I’d settle for any schmo that brings me a freaking drink. “Hey!” I yell to the bartender as he whips by to grab beers for another group.
After he drops them in front of two busty gigglers, he goes over to suit guy and after exchanging a few words, the bartender looks at me—what the heck—then nods before heading over.
It’s so loud but he leans over and yells, “What can I get you?”
I can’t help the wide smile that spreads on my face, assuming that man got the bartender to come over here. “Two Captain and cokes, please—actually, make those doubles.”
He prepares our drinks while I send a thank you grin across the bar. Then I raise up my glass to him, a slow sexy nod coming back my way.
“Babe, sorry Kelsey took so long.” Kelsey jams in next me, shoving a random guy aside.
“Yeah, it’s about time, and you know I don’t like when you refer to yourself in the third person.”
She picks up her drink, guzzles the whole thing down. “Kelsey loves ya, babe. Now let’s go before we’re late.”
Disappointment settles over me that I can no longer make eyes at my faux date, but when I turn back for a goodbye gaze, he’s gone.
2
We make our way through the crowd and out to the lobby. “I’m having second thoughts about this speed dating thing.” Really, I’m having second and third thoughts about the guy at the bar.
“You said you’d try.”
“You said no working!”
“Yesterday we hardly did anything. Come on, give Kelsey a break.”
I turn and glare at her.
“Fine. But it might be hilarious. You never know if you’ll meet someone.”
We both know a big reason for this week is the fact that my fiancé and I split eight months ago and apparently finding me a man is Kelsey’s new project. “That depends on your definition of someone.”
“We’re not looking for Mr. Perfect. I mean how many dates have you been on since William?”
“Zero?” I say. I didn’t count my little faux pas with my neighbor Jack, who had the most adorable black curls and a chest so broad I wanted to curl up on it and hibernate for the winter. We hooked up shortly after William and I decided he was a douche.
“Exactly,” she says. “And we both agreed we’d be up for anything.” She kicks her eyebrows up and grins.
“I know. I know.”
“So…get your ass in there.”
“Fine.”
“There you go,” she says. “And if you meet Prince Charming, you can shove him into a suit case and drag him to LA with you.”
We stop in front of the doors that read, Conference Room A and I lift my wrap over me.
“Wait. What’s with the wrap?” she says.
“I figured if it’s a total loser fest, I’ll wear the shawl.” I throw my hands wide and lift my eyebrows. “And if I meet someone hot, then…” The tight black mini dress is low-cut in the front, showing just enough cleavage.
“The dress is hot. Leave the granny shawl off.”
The room is set up when we arrive; singles are getting their name tags, being assigned their first positions. There are four rows of five tables. The women stay in the same spot while the men rotate through the tables. Each “date” lasts five minutes.
“Good luck, Meg,” she says, as she gets her nametag and moves toward her seat.
“Good luck,” I throw over my shoulder, then slip my shawl on when she’s not looking.
Once I settle into my spot, I scan the room. Average looking guys mostly, with a couple on either end of the spectrum. Five minutes might show me something more. I’m about to take my seat when a pair of deep blue eyes catch my gaze and a warmth stirs in my chest. He’s here. I don’t know if it’s good or bad that he’d attend one of these. You’re here, I remind myself.
He sits at the table next to me, paired with a blonde sporting a bob hairdo. I notice he dumped the jacket, his chest firm and broad beneath his shirt. He nods at me in such a slow confident way, it sends an electric current through my veins. I blush and turn away on instinct. Then, sticking to my “up for anything” attitude, I give him another look. This time he smiles and squints like he knows a secret about me.
The bell rings, and he shrugs as if to say “let’s do this.”
My first guy, a stocky redhead wearing a football jersey, flops into the seat across from me. His name tag reads, Cliff. “Hey, sweets. You ready to party?”
Sweets?
“Hi, uh, yeah.” I shrug and glance back to blue eyes to see if he’s watching. This time he’s looking at his “date” and nodding politely, but after a moment, he glimpses over to me as if he knew I’d be looking.
Cliff doesn’t notice he lost my attention to another man as he rambles about working for his father’s fried chicken franchise. I barely say two words through it all before the bell rings. The rules stated no exchanging contact info with the dates, which wouldn’t be a problem with Cliff. We were to do everything at the end via the moderators.
My new mystery man with the dark blues slides into the seat in front of me without saying a word, but his eyes never leave mine. His name tag reads: Aiden. His eyes are even more spectacular close-up, and the five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw makes me hot and itchy in all the right places. The bell rings. I wait for him to say hi, introduce himself, something. But he just stares at me. I’m not about to speak first, so I stare back at my handsome stranger. Thirty seconds go by, a flurry of voices swirling around us like a tornado. Still neither of us speak as the timer ticks away.
3
Hmm.
Maybe he’s waiting for me to thank him for the drinks? This is too much fun so I stay silent. I’ll thank him when he talks.
I cross my arms, lean back in my chair, and raise my eyebrows as if to say, “Well?”
He lifts one shoulder and lets it fall, continuing the staring match.
If that is the way he wants it, I won’t budge either. Another minute goes by, and we fight against our smiles. One corner of his mouth twitches upward, and I think I have him. I imagine myself leaning over, placing a kiss on the corner. He seems to read my mind, grins without showing his teeth. I can’t hold back any longer so I return the gesture. What is happening?
There’s nothing awkward about our connection, and I begin to feel at ease with staring at this man. Like I already know his face. Ease turns to comfort. Comfort to desire. When I notice his chest rising higher, fuller, mine does as well. I slide my shawl off my shoulders before pinning him with a seductive glare. His expression says he’s impressed.
Aiden leans forward, resting his elbows on the table next to his phone. My cheeks flush with his closeness, his scent—spicy and clean—floating across to me. I imagine him leaning farther over, touching me, kissing me. My body heats at the thought just as the bell sounds. Our fun sexy game is over, and I’m left wanting more.
Aiden stands, still connected to my gaze. Don’t go. The thought of going through all these men when the one I want is right in front of me makes my pulse race. He reaches for his cell. I shoot my hand out and cover his, keeping him from picking it up. I slide the phone from beneath his hand
and glance around to make sure no one is watching. I tap his screen and enter my contact info, before handing it to him with more confidence than the desperation I feel. His mouth turns up in a sexy grin.
Aiden moves to his next seat, and I adjust my shawl back into place before receiving my next “date.”
Edgar is a professor who might be in his late fifties. He’s kind of sexy like when Richard Gere wears reading glasses. He speaks with his hands and barely looks at me, but I pretend to be interested in case Aiden is watching.
My phone resting in my lap vibrates. I look down.
Aiden: You’re not interested in that guy.
I quickly reply, hoping no one sees. How do you know?
Aiden: He doesn’t make your eyes light up like I did.
Edgar talks about retirement, then the bell sounds. I type during the switch. That doesn’t mean I like you.
Aiden: You’re smiling now, while reading my text. BTW: lose the shawl. Don’t hide your beautiful body.
Me: Thanks for the drinks…and smiling doesn’t mean I like you.
Aiden: It does. And you just touched your lips.
Me: So. What does that mean?
Aiden: That’s where you want my lips.
Fire shoots to my cheeks but adrenaline and desire keep me going. So anywhere I touch is where I want your lips?
Aiden: Yes.
I glance up to find him watching me from two tables down. The fire from my cheeks burns a path down to my belly, then to between my thighs. The man hasn’t laid a finger on me, and I’m melting from the inside out.
Joseph climbs into the seat in front of me. He’s cocky and cute in a doofus sort of way but keeps checking out the other women. And he reminds me too much of William so I stamp “no” on his forehead before he utters one word.
As Joseph drones on about his “beemer,” I fantasize about Aiden. I can feel his eyes on me without even checking. So I touch my lips once again to see what happens. I didn’t realize I was still clutching my phone in my lap until it vibrates.
