by Ella Goode
“Go in,” his assistant says without looking at me. I don’t understand why everyone hates me around here. I go above and beyond for everyone when they ask me for something.
“Thanks,” I say before pushing into his office. He’s on the phone and waves me over toward his desk. I sit down, seeing plates of food set out. I push as far back as I can in my chair. It’s all seafood, which I’m highly allergic to.
When he ends the call, he gives me that cheesy smile of his. “Help yourself. I have a conference call and I need you to take notes for me.” Isn't that his assistant’s job? The one sitting outside of his office? He hands me a notepad and pen. His fingers intentionally brush against mine. I jerk my hand back, surprised. I really shouldn't be. This isn’t the first time.
“So just write down whatever is said?” I ask.
“Yep.” He sits back down. “Eat up. You need your strength.” To take notes. The look in his eye says it’s for something entirely different.
“I’m allergic to seafood,” I remind him. He gives me a surprised look. I’ve told him this three times now.
“That must suck.” He gives the same response as before. Luckily the call starts, and I can take my notes and not have to engage in any more small talk with him. I take notes as quickly as I can. He paces around the office and plays with his phone.
At one point he takes off his suit jacket and tie. He gives me a wink when he rolls up the sleeves. I look back down at my pad. Three hours later, the meeting ends and I’m dying of hunger.
“That went well.” He holds his hand out to me, and I hand him the notepad. My hand is freaking killing me. He tosses it on his desk like it’s unimportant. The urge to cry hits me hard and fast. Shit. “It’s late. I should give you a ride home,” he suggests, standing over me. His crotch is eye level.
“The next train will be coming actually.” I jump up. “I should go so I don’t miss it. No need for you to go out of your way.”
“Or we can get a drink.” He tries again. I shake my head no. “This about that neighbor who visited you here today? Are you seeing him?” Then he mumbles something under his breath about a Pulitzer. At least I think he does.
“No. It’s late and my feet hurt.” He glances down at my flats. Which he gives an unpleasant look.
“You’d look better in heels.” Just when I didn't think I could dislike this man more, he proves me wrong.
“I should go.”
“No, I’ll take you.” He grabs his coat, not really giving me much of an option at this point. On the plus side, at least I’ll be getting home fast, which means I’ll be eating sooner.
Right now I’ll take whatever wins I can get.
Nine
Jay
The nights I spent in subzero temperatures in Russia went by faster than the hours that it took Dove to come home from work. I worked for a few hours, but when the sun began to set and I still hadn’t seen her pretty head below my window or heard her door open, I couldn’t concentrate. She didn’t use my number, and I wasn’t smart enough to steal—er, gather hers. I guess I dumbly thought she would text me, even if it was just to tell me no.
I glance out the window again and rub my jaw. There’s an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I may have gotten her in trouble at work, which fucking sucks. I need to remember I’m back in civilization, and I can’t just do whatever I want. Normal people require normal interactions. That also fucking sucks. Like, just get on my level, and we’ll all be good.
I consider whether I should play up the Pulitzer thing. Like all superficial assholes, that means something to the lawyer. If I give him some made-up business like working through a contract issue that my agent has already reviewed, would he go easier on Dove? Do I want to do that? I suppose I need to find out how much this job means to her. If it’s her dream job, then I’ve got to step back. If it’s not, isn’t it open season on this suit guy? He should understand. He thinks in terms of alphas and betas anyway.
I grab my laptop and scroll through the latest batch of documents Davis has marked for me to sign. I select a half dozen of them and send them to the printer. Even if this lawyer sucks, which he probably does, I won’t be harmed because Davis has already vetted them. But this gives me a reason to be at the law firm. I can require him to sit all day with me and that would free Dove to...well, I don’t know. It would get her away from him. That’s the important thing.
I’m in the midst of stacking the contracts when I hear an expensive engine pulling into the parking lot. This isn’t the type of place for fancy cars.
When I check the window, I see Dove climbing out of a low-slung sedan. The lawyer from earlier that day cuts the engine and follows her. I can’t hear the conversation, but it looks like he wants her attention and that she doesn’t want to give it. I run my tongue over my teeth and consider whether she would be fired immediately if I went down and slugged him in the face or whether he would wait until the morning.
I leave my window and jog down the stairs, meeting the two in the lobby. The lawyer has his hand on her arm. Dove is not happy, but she’s trying not to show it, which means she needs her job. Fuck.
“Hey, Dove.”
“Oh, Jay, hi.” She smiles, but it’s not a genuine one. Weariness is evident in every line of her body from her drooped shoulders to the way the corners of her mouth pull down. I want to pick her up, carry her to my nicely reno’d apartment, and hide her away for a year.
“I’ve got dinner ready. You look tired. Let’s go up.”
“Found your keys, did you?” the lawyer snarks, probably thinking he was going to catch me in a lie.
“Yeah, I did. Locksmith came and everything. Thanks for your concern.” I grab Dove’s purse and tuck it under my arm. “Come on. I bought your favorite drink.”
“Peppermint chocolate frappucino?”
“Extra scoop of chocolate.” I nod as if I know anything about what she’s talking about.
“It’s a pump,” the lawyer inserts irritatingly.
“Pump. Scoop. All the same. Thanks for seeing Dove home. You won’t need to do that in the future. I’ve got it covered.” I cup Dove’s elbow and start her toward the door. She moves slowly, like her limbs are stiff. I know we’re only neighbors, but...man, I’d do this for a wounded animal. I have done it, in fact. I reach down and scoop her into my arms.
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Jay, I can walk.”
“I know. I need the exercise. Night, lawyerman,” I call over my shoulder.
“It’s Mr. Thomas,” she says.
“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” The lawyerman is burning daggers into the back of my head, but Dove doesn’t seem to be bothered. She lays her head against my chest and by the time I reach our floor, she’s out. Shit, the girl must’ve been exhausted. I debate for a half second about what to do, but in the end, my apartment wins out. It’s because I have the keys and I can easily access it, not because I want to see her in my bed. Nothing like that.
I nudge the door open and carry her to the bedroom. Thank fuck Abel worked a miracle here. His wife—who is pretty but doesn’t really hold a candle to Dove—came over in the afternoon with a shop full of furniture. The place actually looks great. Smells good, too. She brought something called infusers and stuck them all over. There’s one in the bedroom called Pine Breeze, and it smells sort of like the woods. I like it. I lay Dove down on the navy comforter and slip her shoes off. Her pants look like they might be tight, so I undo the snap. I don’t trust myself to touch the zipper. It’s too close to a part of her that I’d like to get really personal with.
I throw a blanket over her and go lock up. After using the bathroom, I grab a chair and drag it over to the bed. For the second night in a row, I’ll be watching over her, but it doesn’t feel like a chore. Instead, I’ve never felt more content. If all I’m ever allowed to do is this, it might be the best thing I’ve accomplished. Everyone has a purpose in this world. Looking after Dove might be mine.
Ten
Dove
I burst into laughter, not sure what to say. “Jay, did you just snatch me from downstairs and carry me up to your bedroom and then proceed to undo my pants and take my shoes off?” I know I really shouldn't be laughing, but after last night the fear of Jay trying to take advantage of me is gone.
I’d all but passed out on top of him and he’d been nothing but a perfect gentleman. So unlike every other man in my life. I’m starting to wonder if I’ve found one of the rare good guys and if I am really going to push him aside and run because of my own crazy fears?
What’s the point of living if you don’t try and go for some of the things you want? Life has to be about more than making ends meet. There have to be moments of joy and laughter in between or really what is the point? I want to trust him. I want him to be different, but I’m still leery.
Especially after what happened with Thomas. I shake that thought from my head. Jay is nothing like that jerkface Thomas. He has been nothing but nice to me, and even my sister is pushing for me to pursue this.
That alone should tell me something. Avery is not usually the type to get behind a photographer who is following his dreams and lives in a crappy apartment. She usually champions a man that is financially stable and one that has a bank account ending with a ton of zeroes. The fact that she’s encouraging me to be with Jay is another sign that I shouldn’t ignore.
Jay doesn’t seem as though he’s the type that would use me. He is just generally a good person who is worried about the woman who now lives next door to him. I think it would almost make me the stuck-up jerk if I didn't give him a chance. It would be unfair of me to hold him accountable for the indiscretions of other men in my past.
“I’m sorry. You looked tired. I heard you leave so early in the morning and with the way that boss of yours was acting and with how busy you were I was afraid you had worked straight through lunch or something. Now it’s after ten. Have you had anything to eat today?”
“A chocolate bar.”
The normal happy face he gives me drops away quickly. I know his anger is not directed at me. Jay looks like a man who knows what it's like to earn every dollar you make, so he should get it.
“I’ll get you something to drink and have some food sent up. Burgers okay? I know seafood is off the table.”
“How did you know that?” My heart does a flutter.
“You mentioned it in passing last night when we ate.” Oh, wow. He really is paying attention.
“And you remembered?”
“Do I remember a food that could harm or kill you? I promise it’s etched in my brain for life.” Yeah, I think Jay is so going to be getting that date. If he doesn't leave the room in a few minutes, he might get a little more than that. “Don’t move.” He hands me a remote before disappearing and returning a moment later with my drink, placing it on the side table next to me.
“I thought you said your place was a mess.” The bedroom is looking rather nice and this bed is going to be a fight to get up out of when it’s time to leave. I could tell a few things still need to be done, but it is already looking better than my place.
“If there is one thing you’ll learn fast about me, it’s that I work very quickly and I always get what I want.” He winks at me. It’s not arrogant in the least. It doesn’t imply that he assumes he’s going to get in my pants but more that he’s up to the challenge of proving that he’d like to have a shot at getting so close to me that maybe I’ll let him into them. He is more than willing to put in the work to do it.
“I love pizza,” I point out.
“Pizza it is.” He walks over to a dresser, opens a drawer, and pulls out some things. He walks back to me with an oversized shirt and thick socks. “In case you want to get more comfortable.” He drops them on the bed for me before leaving back out of the bedroom.
After the day I’ve had, nothing sounds better. I stand, disposing of my clothes right onto the floor. I put his shirt and socks on before climbing right back into the bed. I start searching through the television shows. This all feels a little too normal. As if I’ve done it many times before.
“This keeps buzzing.” Jay walks in with my purse in his hand. Normally I’d have no doubt it was my sister blowing up my phone, but a small amount of worry pools in my stomach that it might be Thomas.
“Thanks.” I take it from his hand, but he doesn't let go at first.
“I’d never want to tell you what you should be doing with your life, Dove. It’s your job, but I know a lot of law offices around town. I can put in a good word for you.” I start to open my mouth, but he stops me. “I’m really not trying to overstep, and of course you’d have to prove yourself, which I have no doubt you will, but there are always other options.”
“That’s sweet of you. I’ll keep that in mind.” I start to take my bag from him. “Please don’t mention this stuff about my job to my sister.”
Something crosses his face for a moment before he gives me a nod and lets my purse go. “Not a word,” he promises before he heads back out of the room. When he returns a little while later, I’m cuddled deep into his bed. He drops boxes of pizza on the bed that I in no way think we’ll ever be able to finish. Not that we don't give it a go.
He slips into the other side of the bed, making sure there is a nice amount of space between us. Space that I actually hate. At some point sleep finds me, and I’m pretty sure I’m the one closing that space between us.
Eleven
Jay
I try not to stare too hard at Dove’s body because my momma drilled into me that you respect women by looking them in the eye when you’re talking to them. I do a fair job of that, but when you’re not talking, and a goddess is sleeping on your bed, what then? What are the rules for that kind of encounter? And when she creeps closer to you in her sleep until her warm body is curled next to yours, do you slip your arm around her or do you lie still, sweat beading across your forehead while a hard-on rages below the waist?
I finally get out of bed and take a break in the bathroom. The cold water does a lot for my sweat and almost nothing for my erection. She’s just so fucking perfect from her peach-shaped tits to her round ass and curvy hips. Then there’s her legs—long and strong and the perfect necklace. Like I should be wearing her thighs around my head like they’re earrings. I slam the heel of my palm against my temple and try to knock some lust out and some sense in.
What I’d really like to do is get my camera and photograph her. The monorail view one on the tripod with a wide-angle bellows and a film back for black and white old school photos. I’d take off the navy comforter and lay her nude on the white sheets. The drapes would be closed, and the only light would be from a key light directed on different spots on her body. I’d start with her face and focus on the cheek, eyes, mouth, nose. I’d move on to her ear, covering parts of it with strands of hair. Next, I’d sweep the sheets down, inch by slow inch, revealing and exposing as I went along, creating a virtual strip tease to be revisited time and again. I’d place her hand on her breast, her fingers closed around a taut nipple. I’d have her roll that pert bud and squeeze tight until the whites showed on the end of her fingers.
Her legs would swish against the sheets, and while a still image can’t capture the sound, it can capture the restlessness, the tension. It would show in the flex of her calf muscles, the pointing of her toes. It would be etched in her cheekbones as the skin pulls taut across her features. I’d capture her hand as it moved from her chest to her pussy. The light would follow. Her knuckles would point upward as she delved between her legs. Shadows would be cast by her thighs as her fingers disappeared. The light would catch on the moisture as she withdrew them, sparkling like gems just mined from the most hidden of caves. My camera would make love to her as she pleasured herself. The image would blur as her hand moved faster, as her fingers jacked in and out of her pussy, as the sounds of the wet suck of her sex echoed in the quiet night.
I gasp and come, the thi
ck fluid splashing over my fist and covering my stomach. I close my eyes and lean back against the cold porcelain tank, imagining that it is my hand between her legs, my fingers knuckle deep in her cunt. It’s my mouth on her tits, suckling those nipples to tight, hard nubs, and, after she’s creamed on my hand, it’ll be my rod inside of her channel and we’ll be making those hot sex sounds together. I squeeze myself hard, milking all of the cum out until there’s nothing left in my tank.
One of these days this is going to be more than a bathroom fantasy. Either that or I throw myself out of a window. I heave my spent body to my feet and wash up. My camera’s the first thing my eyes land on when I exit the bathroom, and even though my fingers itch to pick it up, I force myself to the sofa. I don’t trust myself next to her in a bed.
There’s no sleeping, but I do a lot of staring at the ceiling. Abel had his people paint it, I think. There aren’t any dark marks on it. When dawn breaks, I get up and make breakfast. I don’t have a tray to put it on, but I do find some cups and plates in the cupboard that I didn’t own before. I’ll have to send a thank you gift to Pepper. Maybe Dove can pick it out for me. Once the eggs, sausage and toast are done, I go to wake Dove up, only to find that she’s already dressed and at my bedroom door.
“Breakfast?” I suggest.
“No.” She shakes her head stiffly. “I need to get to work.”
I glance at the clock. It’s still early, but maybe lawyers’ assistants need to get to work before everyone else. “Breakfast won’t take long.”
“I need to get ready.” She plucks at the front of my sweatshirt, which dwarfs her in the sexiest and most adorable way possible. “Thomas isn’t very forgiving about tardiness.”
