Give Love a Chai (Common Threads Book 2)

by Smartypants Romance

  All that to say, I actually enjoyed talking with real humans during class and with TAs during our prep sessions.

  Except, not today.

  Today, Dave was being his usual indecisive self. Audra had to tell everyone about her Thanksgiving vacation. I couldn’t have known more details if I had been binging twenty-four-hour security tapes of her break. Nisha had a five-page typed list of questions and scenarios. I mean, how many times did I need to tell her the probability of a city-wide Internet outage for a week before the final project was exceedingly rare? In fact, students might even be more productive if they couldn’t access social media apps with the ability to swap faces or make them sound like chipmunks.

  On a normal week, I would have enjoyed the back-and-forth. Today, they were a roadblock to Andrew. After a glorious weekend in Colorado, Andrew had flown back to Chicago for work while I flew to Boston. It had been an exceedingly long four days without seeing him.

  Surreptitiously, I glanced at my text messages, trying to hide my smile as I read his last text and wrote back.

  Andrew: Getting off the plane now. Can’t wait to get you off tonight

  Me: Stop it! I’m at school

  Andrew: Did I tell you how hot you are when you boss me around? I like a woman on top

  Me: I’m going to ignore that comment. What do you want for dinner? I can grab some sushi

  Andrew: Nah

  Me: Thai?

  Andrew: Are you on the menu?

  “Professor?”

  “Huh?” Face flushed, I looked up, disoriented to see my TAs staring back at me.

  “What do you think about assigning groups for the final assignment? I could randomize all of the students and have a list ready tonight.” Nisha waited.

  “Hmm, that’s definitely an option.” I gathered my brain cells together, pushing away the lusty thoughts.

  Finals. Students. Need to finish ASAP. “I lean toward letting the students pick their own groups though. No matter how randomly you assign them, someone is going to be upset. Let them choose—no need to overengineer.”

  “Okay.” Nisha jotted down some notes and closed her laptop. “That’s it for my questions.”

  “Sounds good. Thanks so much. Email me if you have any more questions. Good night!” Stuffing my laptop in my purse, I practically ran out of the conference room, waving a frantic goodbye over my shoulder.

  Even though it was early December, normally I would have walked home and called it my exercise of the day. Tonight, I was too excited to get home. Plus, I could exercise later. Horizontally in bed.

  Or vertically. I was not opposed to climbing Andrew.

  Ten minutes later, I hopped out of the cab at my apartment building. There, on the sidewalk outside of my apartment building, was Andrew, a suitcase in one hand, and the prettiest gift in the other—takeout.

  As if my pants weren’t already falling off at the sight of him, his stare heated me up. It was positively inappropriate for public settings.

  All of a sudden, I felt overwhelmingly shy. Never mind the flirty texts that we had exchanged for the past few days or the actual sex in Colorado. I was back to being just a girl, standing in front of the boy that I liked. Extremely, extremely liked.

  The last time we had talked was a brief, two-minute-thirty-seven-second phone call, where we had talked about logistics of when he would be flying back to Boston. So yeah, seeing him in person after a few days apart was intimidating.

  What if Andrew had some sort of epiphany while apart and decided that I was only a booty call? We lived in two different cities with established careers, and had already messed up once. Maybe he thought, screw it, she’s not worth the headache?

  Or what if he met some hot flight attendant on the way here and decided to fly away—

  I didn’t have time to finish my thought, as Andrew walked over. No, walking was too tame a word. He prowled over, stopping so close that I had to tilt my head up to look at him.

  “Hi,” he growled, before taking my lips in a needy kiss. His hands framed my face, as his tongue sought mine. This kiss was not gentle. It was dark and heady, as he took possession of me. His hands dropped from my face and pulled my hips firmly against him, showing just how much he missed me.

  A low moan echoed in the night air. I pulled back, startled to realize it had originated with me. Against Andrew’s chest, I mumbled, “You’re not running away with the flight attendant, after all.”

  “What are you talking about, Tia?” His voice sounded muffled against my hair.

  “Oopf, never mind.” Waving away his question, I pulled him eagerly into the building.

  As soon as the elevator door closed behind us, Andrew pushed me up against one wall, nuzzling my neck. He rumbled, as he sucked gently on a sensitive spot, “I’ve missed you, Tia.”

  Warmth pooled low in my body, as I murmured, “I’ve missed you too. I wasn’t sure … Ooh, that feels good. I wasn’t sure how … we would be …”

  Frowning again, Andrew looked at me. Looking frustrated and a little sad, he asked, “Did you think that we were just fooling around back in the hotel? You’re more than a pussy to me.”

  Inelegant as his confession was, I got the meaning behind his crude words. It was a miniature step forward, and I would take it.

  Walking backward out of the elevator and toward my apartment, I teased, “How flattering. I was hoping you’d notice that I had other assets too: boobs, butt, mouth, a torso, face. By golly, did you know that I even have fingers? Ten of them in fact?”

  One hand grabbed my wriggling fingers, using that single touch to pull me flush against him. On someone else, it might have seemed aggressive, especially as I didn’t love having people in my personal space. When Andrew did it though, I was ready to suggest some silky ropes.

  Andrew loosened his grip enough to kiss the palms of my hands, muttering softly, his breath fanning my skin. “Oh, I remember these fingers. In fact, I still have marks on my back from them.”

  “Shhhh!”

  Immediately, I pulled one hand free to fumble for my keys. Andrew was no help and clearly lacked any sort of self-consciousness as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along my neck.

  By some miracle, the door opened, as we stumbled inside. Kicking the door shut, Andrew carried me to my bed, his mouth never leaving mine. He stepped away just far enough to strip off both of our clothes, his heated eyes caressing me.

  Naked. And he made no move to touch me.

  I resisted the urge to cover myself, to cover my flaws. If you asked if I was a confident woman, I would have said yes. Mostly. I knew I was intelligent, a good friend, good at my job, generally nice, occasionally funny. If you called me weird or goofy, I would even agree.

  But looks—that was a loaded topic. Physical appearance wasn’t something that I talked a lot about as a kid. My parents praised me for good grades. Outside of taking me to the dentist to get braces in high school or making sure that I wore clean clothes, my looks were irrelevant. With guys, outside of Clayton and Andrew, the typical guy who chased after me had some sort of weird East Asian fetish, and their judgment couldn’t be trusted.

  My brain knew that I wasn’t ugly. I was very normal looking. For the most part, I was fine with that. I didn’t need to look like a Hollywood star.

  However, at this moment, my heart really, really wanted to look like a sexy siren, who could pose confidently on the bedsheets without blushing like a tomato.

  A few months ago, in one of those glossy magazines near the supermarket checkout, I read that if you don’t point out your flaws, no one would notice. Well, that was bullshit. Unless Andrew’s eyesight had soured dramatically in the course of four days, it was impossible for Andrew to miss seeing the not-flat curve of my stomach, or the lack of definition in my arms and legs. Especially when my jiggly parts were next to his tautness. His very swoony abs and that delicious V-shaped tapering pointing straight to—

  Averting my eyes, I stared at his shoulder. Ai ya ya, even hi
s shoulders were delicious looking—all smooth muscles. In fact, I was pretty sure that his shoulders possessed muscles that didn’t exist in mine. How could shoulders be sexy?

  A tortured groan tore from Andrew’s lips, as if he was in pain. I chanced a glance at his face. Stark yearning blazed in his eyes as they slowly swept over me. His hands, trembling slightly, touched my body reverently, and he blew out a shaky breath.

  Nudging me gently, he turned me over, his hands still tracing invisible paths along my back. My vision was hindered in this position, which only made my other senses hyper focus on his touch.

  I wriggled out of discomfort at being displayed like this, and immediately, his hands grabbed at my ass, rougher than before. I tried to make light of this tension-filled situation. “I should have laid off on the milkshake earlier.”

  Kneading my butt in his strong hands, it took Andrew a moment before he responded, “Why?”

  “I eat too many of them, and all of those add up to make my butt too big.”

  Slap. One hand spanked me, as he admonished, “Stop it, Tia.”

  I should have been mortified, but it seemed that everything Andrew did made me mortifyingly wet. “Your ass is perfect.”

  To prove it, Andrew lowered his hips against mine, his dick hard and impossibly large between my cheeks. He chuckled at my soft moan, one hand holding himself up, the other sliding underneath to seek out my center.

  “I’ve missed you too much, Tia. I’m afraid this one will be quick,” he growled, kissing the sensitive spot on my neck, as he rocked against me. “I promise, the next one will be better.”

  “Don’t want to wait. Ooh, that’s it, right there. Andrew!” My back arched against him, as he slid two fingers, two magical fingers, inside me.

  Growling, Andrew lifted my butt, propped a pillow underneath me, and in a swift move, thrust inside of me. It was too deep, and I wanted to weep with pleasure.

  He held himself still above me. I could hear him drawing mouthfuls of air to calm himself down. I didn’t want him to calm down. I wanted Andrew to lose control. More of the real, needy him, not some restrained version. I wanted quick and hard.

  “Move,” I pleaded, arching back, and squeezed.

  “Fuck!” His whole body stilled. For a moment, I thought he was going to continue to tease me, to tease us. Before I could beg again, Andrew growled, driving into me over and over again, wild and desperate, his fingers finding my center of pleasure. We thundered toward the edge, racing each other to find bliss, our voices rising as pleasure overtook us. There were no soft encouragements or tenderness, only rough promises as he pounded inside of me, shaking what I thought was a sturdy bed. This was madness, and my body welcomed it.

  With a scream as I clawed my sheets, I tumbled into mind-warping pleasure. Or did I fly, lifted by bliss? My body was wracked with tremors and wrecked by Andrew, as he spent inside of me.

  Le petit mort.

  The French had it right. I was floating outside of my body, even as I pulsed with the aftereffects with Andrew still inside of me.

  Pulling out gently, Andrew turned us so I lay tucked against his side. “Are you okay?”

  I pushed up lethargically to look at him and was surprised to see a shadow of self-consciousness on his face. Whatever I was feeling, Andrew was no more certain of my feelings or us than I was of him.

  Tenderness washed over me, as I smiled at him. “Yeah, never better. I missed you since Sunday. And—and for the years before then too.”

  It took a moment for my confession to sink in. I watched as his expression went from confused, to surprised, to hopeful. Tenderly, Andrew leaned over to kiss me.

  Hope wasn’t much. It was also a tricky feeling, because it was often misguided and set you up for disappointment. However, at this moment, lying in my bed, with my arms and legs tangled around Andrew, hope was more than enough.

  Still groggy from sleep, I opened one eye, squinting in the sunlit room. Instead of spooning me or doing naughty things to my body, Andrew was sitting up in bed, phone in his hands.

  Bitterness marred his expression, as he sat there, staring blankly at the screen.

  Alarm rose in me, erasing the remnants of sleep. Sitting up, I touched Andrew’s shoulder. Startled, he looked at me, quickly clearing away any expression.

  He smiled lazily. “Good morning, sleepyhead. How’d you sleep?”

  I took his lead, though I was still puzzled. “Tired still. Someone kept me awake last night.”

  A more genuine smile spread across his face, as he said, “I heard no complaints. In fact, I believe you were loudly enthusiastic.”

  “Your memory must be failing you. I was not loud.”

  “Uh-huh, must have been someone else screaming my name, and telling me to go faster and harder.”

  I blushed as Andrew laughed. It was one thing to be wanton in the heat of it all. It was another, very different thing, to be talking about one’s wanton behavior in broad daylight.

  “Is everything okay?” I gestured toward the phone still in Andrew’s hands.

  He turned the phone and placed it on my nightstand, with the screen down. “Everything’s fine, just some annoying thing that I have to take care of later. It shouldn’t affect us.”

  “Shouldn’t? As in, it might?”

  “Won’t.” His voice was firm, allowing no room for argument.

  It was an evasive tactic. On the other hand, he had the right to privacy. I’d only been back in his life for a little bit. Did I really have the right to pry into every facet of his life? There was plenty of time to learn about him. Right now, I needed to trust him.

  After a moment, he said, “There’s something else I’d like to run by you. I’ve been thinking. Back in Colorado, we agreed to give our relationship a try. We didn’t get into any specifics of how this relationship would work.”

  “I see. Like where would we live and so forth?”

  “Yes.” Andrew nodded before getting up. “Hold on. Let me get some paper to write this down. I don’t want any misunderstandings.”

  Comfortable in his skin, Andrew walked butt naked toward his suitcase to grab his notebook. I nearly groaned out loud when he leaned down slightly. His butt had faint red marks from, well, I plead the fifth. But I will say that, my inner muscles were still sore from that incident.

  “Is this how you win negotiations? By strutting around naked and distracting your opponent?”

  Without missing a beat, Andrew bantered, “Only with the special ones.”

  I threw the nearest pillow at him. Because my arms were weak and the pillow was a dense, memory foam, magical pillow, it landed five feet away from Andrew’s feet, drawing his laughter at my lame attempt.

  Hesitantly, I asked, even as I hated the thought of us being apart, “Should we date long-distance—”

  “No long-distance. We have to be in the same city, as soon as possible. I want to live with you and see you every day, not when we have nothing better to do for a weekend.”

  His mulish look softened when I nodded enthusiastically. “Okay, which city should we move to? I like my university, but I think I could get another job somewhere. I would need time though to apply and interview.”

  Looking sheepish, Andrew said, “I spoke to Quinn, my boss, already. He’s given the green light for me to relocate, as long as I fly back to Chicago on a regular basis and that I get reciprocity in Massachusetts to practice law, in case he expands Cipher to Boston.”

  My smile couldn’t have been broader, unless my face grew wider. “I like your initiative.”

  “What can I say? I’m an optimistic guy.”

  We both cracked up. That feeling of hope was contagious, warming us in our little alcove away from the world. We were in a rose-colored filter where we could blithely arrange our lives as if we were playing with unlimited time, resources, and commitment.

  Andrew scribbled a note about living in Boston, his chicken scrawl so familiar and still so hard to read. Tapping his pen against
the paper, he said absentmindedly, writing in the margins, “At some point, if we’re living in Boston, we’ll need a bigger place.”

  “With bedroom doors so I can slam them if you do something stupid.”

  “It’s inevitable that I’ll be an idiot. Until we move, you’ll have to contend yourself to slamming your closet doors for now. Now that we’ll be in the same city and living in the same place, let’s talk about how much time we should spend together.”

  Confused, I stared at him. “What do you mean? I assume we’ll hang out when we’re both free.”

  “How much time? Free time and hanging out are too vague. What does free time mean? Does it mean that you’ve exhausted all options to do something with someone else? Does getting ready in the morning together or waiting for our coffee to brew check the box for hanging out?” Although Andrew’s voice didn’t rise, his words were clipped, and I got the feeling that he was trying to hold on to his control.

  Ai ya ya. I didn’t understand his questions. I mean, I understood the questions literally. I just didn’t understand why he was pushing for so many guardrails. Relationships were supposed to be fun, right?

  In a light tone to try to diffuse this situation that perplexed me, I teased, “I assume, some days, we’ll see more of each other. Some days, we’ll probably need more space from each other. Let’s not be too prescriptive. Next thing, you’ll come up with a schedule for when we have sex.”

  His voice defiant, he responded, “Maybe we should.”

  Jumping out of bed, with a blanket to try to cover myself, I stared angrily at him. “Why are you taking the fun out of this? I refuse to let a schedule dictate when I’m in the mood, or set timers for when we are together. ‘Oh, it’s only been thirty minutes? That doesn’t count as hanging out for today.’ This is completely irrational.”

  Arms folded across his unfortunately still distractingly muscly chest, Andrew disputed, “No, this is rational. You don’t get a job without signing a contract. Hell, you don’t order food online or go on social media without agreeing to some terms and conditions. If this is more important than making sure the right butter chicken was delivered on time, then I fail to see why we wouldn’t set parameters for this relationship.”