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Needing to Love You (Houston's Finest #2)

Page 11

by Erin Rylie


  Rafe: You are insufferable.

  Rafe: kbyrne@aol.com

  Carlos: Thanks, buddy! You’re the best.

  Carlos: Rafe?

  Carlos: Hellooooo?

  Carlos: Ignoring me? How rude.

  From: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  To: kbyrne@aol.com

  Subject: Nude Pics of Carlos Ramirez

  Today at 8:43 a.m.

  Good Morning Gorgeous,

  I really wish I could see your reaction to my GENIUS subject line. I’m betting you saw it and opened the email faster than a man opens a condom wrapper after a six-month dry streak. I hate to disappoint you, you dirty girl, but this is a PG email. Mostly.

  Remember when I told you I wasn’t giving up? Well, you can ignore my texts, hide in your office when we’re home alone and behind James when he’s here, but I’m old school. I will email you every single day until you relent. Today, I’ll be listing your favorite things, in order of importance, of course:

  1. James (I bet you thought I was going to put myself first. Even I know I come second to my favorite tiny human.)

  2. Carlos Ramirez

  3. Carlos Ramirez’s Smile

  4. Carlos Ramirez’s Laugh

  5. Carlos Ramirez’s Dick (I know I said PG, but I lied)

  Tomorrow, I think I’ll be listing your favorite sex positions. I know previews of these emails pop up in the corner of your screen while you’re working, so I’ll make sure to think of a subject that’ll make you blush.

  Patiently Waiting,

  Carlos

  * * *

  From: kbyrne@aol.com

  To: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  Subject: Stalk Much?

  Today at 8:46 a.m.

  I’m wondering if I can use your email to file a restraining order. I definitely think I have a case. What are your thoughts, Officer?

  Annoyed,

  Kelsey

  * * *

  P.S. Your dick doesn’t even make Top 100 when I list my favorite things.

  * * *

  From: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  To: kbyrne@aol.com

  Subject: THREE MINUTES

  Today at 9:04 a.m.

  THREE MINUTES! It only took you three minutes to respond. You know what that means? I’ll make another list for you.

  1. You opened the email the MOMENT you saw the subject line.

  2. You responded immediately.

  3. You. Want. Me.

  Victory Dancing,

  Carlos

  * * *

  P.S. Maybe you need to be reminded how amazing my dick is. Clearly you’re delusional.

  * * *

  From: kbyrne@aol.com

  To: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  Subject: Hard Worker

  Today at 9:15 a.m.

  Or maybe I’m just a hard worker. I was sitting at my desk, speaking to a nice young man about his stay at a hotel and your offensive subject line caught my eye. I quickly clicked over to move it to spam and ACCIDENTALLY opened it.

  Trying to Work,

  Kelsey

  * * *

  P.S. I’m not delusional. If I remember correctly, it was a relatively average dick. Meh.

  * * *

  From: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  To: kbyrne@aol.com

  Subject: MEH?!

  Today at 9:16 a.m.

  First of all, if you opened it by accident, why did you respond? Did your fingers mistakenly press the keys on the keyboard? What did you think you were doing? Playing a tiny version of whack-a-mole? Admit it, you love my emails. Second of all, MEH?! MEH?! I have never been more offended in my life. Maybe I’ll ignore you now. Let’s see how you like the silent treatment.

  Outraged and Hurt,

  Carlos

  * * *

  From: kbyrne@aol.com

  To: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  Subject: I Repeat, Meh.

  Today at 9:27 a.m.

  The subject line speaks for itself. You’re going to ignore me and let me work in peace? YESSSSSS! My wishes have been granted.

  Victory Dancing Harder,

  Kelsey

  * * *

  From: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  To: kbyrne@aol.com

  Subject: …

  Today at 9:42 a.m.

  …

  * * *

  From: kbyrne@aol.com

  To: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  Subject: Whyyyyy?

  Today at 9:46 a.m.

  How you manage to convey moping via email is beyond me.

  Unapologetic,

  Kelsey

  * * *

  From: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  To: kbyrne@aol.com

  Subject: I Can Mope If I Want To

  Today at 10:02 a.m.

  I can leave my friends behind. Because my friends don’t mope and if they don’t mope then they’re no friends of mine.

  Hurt and Crying,

  Carlos

  * * *

  From: kbyrne@aol.com

  To: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  Subject: 80s Music, Really?

  Today at 10:15 a.m.

  I think I’m speechless. I genuinely don’t know how to respond to you right now. I just…can’t.

  Judging You,

  Kelsey

  * * *

  From: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  To: kbyrne@aol.com

  Subject: You Have The Power To Stop This

  Today at 10:23 a.m.

  Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down. Never gonna run around and desert you.

  Winning,

  Carlos

  * * *

  P.S. I will stop when you retract the “MEH” and admit that my dick is the best you’ve ever had.

  * * *

  From: kbyrne@aol.com

  To: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  Subject: DID YOU JUST RICK ROLL ME?

  Today at 10:29 a.m.

  I don’t even know how to respond. I’ve never been Rick Rolled before. I concede—your dick is a little bit above average.

  Exasperated,

  Kelsey

  * * *

  From: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  To: kbyrne@aol.com

  Subject: So Ungrateful

  Today at 10:36 a.m.

  You know, I’ve been thinking about it and I’m officially offended. I gave you a great—no, FANTASTIC—orgasm the other day and I have yet to receive a thank-you card. I at the very least expected a fruit basket from you. Instead I’ve gotten stony silence. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?

  Underappreciated,

  Carlos

  * * *

  From: kbyrne@aol.com

  To: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  Subject: What Kind of Man Likes Fruit Baskets?

  Today at 11:13 a.m.

  Let’s be real—it wasn’t that great of an orgasm. Sure, you’ve got a semi-skilled tongue, but I have a vibrator that actually sucks on my clit just as well as you do. Who needs a man, really? Besides, your thanks comes in the form of spank bank material. Be honest, how many times over the last few days has the image of me on that kitchen counter made an appearance in your fantasies?

  My Vibrator Is My Best Friend,

  Kelsey

  * * *

  From: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  To: kbyrne@aol.com

  Subject: Hostage Situation

  Today at 11:49 a.m.

  While you were busy doing whatever it is you do in that office, I found and confiscated something of great value to you. In order to get it back, you must agree to one date with me, Carlos Ramirez. Choose your next move wisely or your little friend gets it.

  Evil Genius,

  Carlos

  * * *

  [1 IMAGE ATTACHED]

  * * *

  From: kbyrne@aol.com

  To: urnotre
adyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  Subject: GIVE IT BACK, CARLOS

  Today at 11:50 a.m.

  Let’s set aside the fact that you went INTO MY ROOM without my permission to steal my vibrator for now. You better put it back before I finish working for the day at 1, or I will do wildly unpleasant things to your favorite body part.

  Not Amused,

  Kelsey

  * * *

  From: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  To: kbyrne@aol.com

  Subject: Waterboarding My Victim

  Today at 12:03 p.m.

  The longer you resist me, the more brutal my forms of torture get. Your little friend did not enjoy being waterboarded in the sink. Your move, Byrne.

  Muahahaha,

  Carlos

  * * *

  [1 IMAGE ATTACHED]

  * * *

  From: kbyrne@aol.com

  To: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  Subject: Badge Bunnies Are Easier

  Today at 12:05 p.m.

  Wouldn’t it be easier to go out and break some badge bunny’s heart? What did my poor, sweet vibrator ever do to you? You don’t want to harm an innocent, Carlos.

  Surrender Now,

  Kelsey

  * * *

  From: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  To: kbyrne@aol.com

  Subject: Rubber VS Flame

  Today at 12:14 p.m.

  The more time you waste, the more brutal my punishments get. Your little buddy can’t handle the heat so maybe it’s time to take him out of the kitchen. You have a weed wacker in the garage, right? Looks like that’s where we will be heading next.

  Your Move,

  Carlos

  * * *

  From: kbyrne@aol.com

  To: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  Subject: UGHHHHH

  Today at 12:15 p.m.

  FINE! You win, Carlos. One date. Just one. Put my damn vibrator back.

  Waving White Flag,

  Kelsey

  * * *

  From: urnotreadyforthisjelly@gmail.com

  To: kbyrne@aol.com

  Subject: Dress Sexy

  Today at 12:20 p.m.

  Ahhhh victory is sweet. Be ready tomorrow night at six. Since you’re dropping James off for the weekend at five, that should give you plenty of time to get all dressed up for me. I like you in blue, for the record. I’ve attached proof of life for your vibrator—he is sleeping safe and sound in your bedside table. You can go ahead and let him know that his services won’t be required this weekend.

  Smug,

  Carlos

  * * *

  [1 IMAGE ATTACHED]

  Chapter Twelve

  Kelsey’s Friday was an absolute disaster. First, James didn’t want to go to preschool. Her well-behaved toddler turned into a tiny little monster, kicking and screaming the whole time she tried to get him ready. When she had finally gotten him dressed (pajama bottoms and a giraffe T-shirt counted as dressed, right?) and fed, he had refused to get into his car seat. She’d ended up having to pull Carlos out of bed to hold James down while she buckled him in.

  Then, when she had gotten back from dropping her son off, she’d had to deal with some of the most obstinate customers she’d ever faced. One man insisted that the company reimburse him for his ten-day stay at a resort within their brand because the bellhop had looked at him funny. The next three customers had disputed smoking and room damage charges on their bills. Her final customer of the day had yelled at her for fifteen minutes straight. Eventually, after he’d called her every name she could think of, Kelsey had transferred the call to her supervisor.

  The one bright light in her day was Carlos. She’d been on the verge of breaking down crying from pure frustration when he’d come into her office with a hot cup of fresh coffee, sweetened just the way she liked it, and a homemade bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit. Next to the plate he’d left a sticky note that read, “Fun fact of the day: sea otters hold hands when they sleep to keep from drifting apart.”

  The thoughtfulness of the breakfast combined with the fact that he had given her a fact for the day had her considering wearing her sluttiest underwear for their date tonight. She didn’t plan on putting out, but she could tease the guy with a flash of her favorite lace blue thong. She definitely didn’t choose the color of her underwear based on his personal preferences; she just happened to agree with him, that’s all.

  After dropping James off at Kyle’s house, she made it home with just over an hour to get ready. She took a quick shower and blow-dried and straightened her hair so that it fell straight and smooth down her back. She did her makeup meticulously, taking extra time with it because she rarely put on more than some foundation. When she’d finished her hair and makeup, she only had fifteen minutes to get dressed. Fortunately, she’d been thinking all day about what she might wear out on their date and had the perfect outfit planned to drive him wild.

  She threw on her favorite white skinny jeans with a light blue flowy top. It was one of her favorite shirts to wear because the material was soft and cool against her skin and made her tan stand out. She paired the ensemble with her favorite Jimmy Choo patent leather nude pumps, and a Chanel purse she’d gotten years ago. It was nude to match her shoes and had a long chain strap. Double-checking her appearance in the mirror, she thought she looked pretty good. Being a mother meant that she had constant circles under her eyes, but she’d done her best to cover them up with makeup.

  Just as she walked out of her room to find Carlos, she heard the doorbell ring. She checked her watch and smiled when she realized that it was six p.m. on the dot. Kelsey was willing to bet every dime in her bank account that Carlos was at the door waiting to pick her up like this was a real date. She took her time walking to the front door, wanting to make him wait a few extra seconds. When she opened the door, however, she had to keep her mouth from dropping open. Carlos looked…incredible.

  Over the past couple of months she’d rarely seen him out of sweatpants and T-shirts, so seeing him dressed up was a shock to her senses. His hair had been tamed and artfully gelled into a messy look that appeared effortless though it had probably taken him thirty minutes. Her fingers itched to run through his hair and mess it up further. He’d shaved, leaving only a light stubble dusting his face. He was wearing dark-wash jeans and a white button-down that was open at the collar. The opening showed a sliver of deliciously tan skin that she had to resist the urge to lick. Of course, as a good Texas man, he was wearing cowboy boots, the leather worn in and a warm chocolatey color.

  His cane was noticeably absent and she hoped that the majority of their evening would be spent sitting. She knew he hated to rely on the cane to walk, but he couldn’t move around for long without suffering from some debilitating pain in his hip. Fortunately, she kept a spare in the trunk of her car. Carlos didn’t know it was there, but she’d stowed it away one day after a physical therapy session got the best of him and he hadn’t had a cane to aid his movement. She’d had to support his considerable weight to and from the car and had placed the spare cane in her car that evening.

  She was broken from her silent observation by Carlos’s raspy voice. “Kelsey, you look incredible.” He shook his head and tucked his hands into his pockets. “We’d better get going before I push you back into the house and strip you down. Seriously, you look good enough to eat.”

  Kelsey felt a blush rise in her cheeks and smiled up at him. “Thinking about licking whipped cream out of my belly button again?”

  Carlos groaned. “I wasn’t, but now I am. Get in the damn car, woman. You’re testing my willpower. My dick is trying to break out of my fucking jeans right now; you’re giving the poor guy ideas.”

  Before responding, she closed the door behind her and locked it. When she walked past Carlos, he put a gentle hand on her lower back, the touch sending shivers up her spine. It wasn’t until he’d opened the driver’s side door of the car for her that she said anything. “Jus
t because I feel like making your jeans a little more uncomfortable, I have a secret to tell you.” She motioned him closer with her hand. Once her lips were next to his ear, she whispered softly, “My underwear are matching, lace, and your favorite color.”

 

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