by Meghan Quinn
Oh crap.
“You had no idea about what?” Beck asks, pulling my attention toward him.
“Uh.” I look over Beck’s shoulder again to see Jack give Veronica a curt nod and head outside.
Crap, crap, crap.
I hop off my chair, purse in hand, and start toward the door, but Beck snags my arm before I can get any farther. “What’s going on, Sassy?”
I glance at the door, willing Jack to come back before I respond to Beck. “Long story.” I shake my head. “But the man I want in my life just walked out that door and if I don’t go after him, I’ll lose my chance at being with him.”
A small smile plays over Beck’s lips. “Then what are you waiting for, Sassy? Go get him.”
Letting me go, he steps aside before giving me a playful nudge toward the door. “Go.”
Not wasting any more time, I run past Veronica—who has a bright smile on her lips—out the door and onto the street. Out front, I look in both directions until I find Jack’s retreating back, his shoulders tense, but his head held high.
I take off after him, my heels pounding on the cement beneath me. “Jack,” I call out, as if I’m in my very own movie, the music coming to a crescendo, building and building. “Jack, wait!”
The moment he turns around, I know he’s the one because my heart skips a beat.
Your heart is never blind.
This couldn’t be more true. Jack is the one, my match, the man I’m supposed to be with, and my heart is showing me loud and clear.
When I reach him, there is an unsure look on his face, almost as if he isn’t entirely confident in the bond between us.
“Jack,” I breathe out and put my hand on the lapel of his smooth suit jacket, the fabric so rich. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
Lips pressed together, he looks at the ground and nods.
Wanting to see those eyes of his, I lift his chin and say in my best Meg Ryan voice, “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.” The famous quote from You’ve Got Mail at the end of the movie when they finally meet in the park is the only thing I can think to say at this moment.
The tension in Jack’s shoulders ease, and the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen crosses his face. Pulling me in tightly by the small of my back, he presses his forehead against mine. In a sultry voice, he asks, “Will you go out on a second date with me, ShopGirl?”
Wrapping my arms around his tapered waist, I take no time in answering him. “I would want nothing more than to date you, NY152.”
“Thank you, Tom Hanks.” Chuckling, he brings my chin up with his index finger and studies my eyes right before his lips press against mine, sending my heart into a tailspin of lust.
It’s him. It’s him.
It’s what my heart keeps pounding out, telling me. This is the man I need to be with, the man I’m meant to be with.
He’s my very own love story.
Epilogue
JACK
Two weeks later . . .
I shift on my feet, flowers in hand, anxious for Noely to open the door. I hear her running down the hallway followed by the sound of the door being unlocked. When she opens the door, she acts casual, but from the glint in her eyes, I can tell she’s excited to see me. Hell, I’m just as excited to see her.
“Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey.” She bounces on her bare feet and then throws her arms around me.
This will never get old.
Her face presses against my chest, her small body wrapping around mine. I kiss the top of her head. God, this feels so right. “I brought you flowers, and food should be here any minute. Can I come in?”
Looking up at me, she beams. “Of course.”
She takes the flowers from me and walks into her kitchen. I follow closely behind her, making sure to shut the door. I lean against the counter, taking in her pajama-clad body while she puts the flowers in a vase. “How was your day?”
“Much better now that you’re here.” She plops the flowers in water and turns toward me. Without a second thought, she buries her lithe body against mine, her arms wrapping under my suit jacket.
Two weeks of this, two weeks of calling this woman mine, two weeks of dinners, dates, and long walks on the beach, stopping occasionally to dance beneath the stars. It’s been incredible, everything I could have asked for when it comes to a partner in life.
“I caught the show this morning.”
“Yeah?” She guides me to her couch where she pushes me down on the cushions and takes a seat on my lap. “Did you like the segment we did on booze in eggnog?”
“Watching Dylan’s face while taking a sip of each spiked drink was priceless.” I chuckle. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”
“No?”
I shake my head, my hand playing with the hem of her short pajama shorts, my fingers grazing under the fabric occasionally. From beneath her shirt, I catch the puckering of her nipples, and yes, immediate hard-on.
“No, I wanted to discuss that little dress you had on today.”
“The green sequined dress?” She plays with my tie, starting to undo the tightly wound Windsor knot.
“Yeah, that dress.” I move my hand up her thigh, under her shorts where I find she’s not wearing any underwear. “It was quite short, don’t you think?”
Expertly her fingers free my tie and she pulls it from around my neck only to toss it on the floor. “I don’t think it was short at all.”
“Really? That’s interesting, because from the way I saw it, it almost seemed like you were trying to tease me while you were on the show today. You know how much I love a short dress on you.” Some men like a low-cut dress, but me, hell, there is something about Noely in a short dress that about makes me lose all concentration. To say I was useless for the rest of the day was an understatement. All I could think about was my girl in that dress.
While she fiddles with the buttons on my dress shirt, she smiles seductively. “I might have chosen it with you in mind, hoping you caught the show.”
“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.” I move my hand out from her shorts and up her shirt where my fingers graze her bare stomach. “You in that dress distracted me all day.”
She giggles. “My mistake.”
“Yeah, right.” In one swift movement, I pin her to the couch and hover above her where I take off my dress shirt and then position my hands on both sides of her head. Her eyes rake over my bare chest, filling with heat while her tongue wets her lips with a smooth stroke. I brush a piece of hair off her face. “You’re so beautiful, Noely.”
Moving closer, I bring my lips to just above hers where I hear a hitch in her breath. “But because you tortured me all day long with that image, I think I might have to torture you now.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and brings me in even closer. Whispering, she says, “Do your best work.”
God, this woman. So fucking addicting.
I don’t waste any time. I plunge forward, my lips on hers, my tongue spreading her mouth, granting me access. One of my hands reaches below and moves the hem of her shirt up where I find that she isn’t wearing a bra either. She knew what she was doing all along, tempting me, torturing me . . . and hell if I don’t like it.
As my mouth tangles with hers, my hand connects with her breast, and I pluck and squeeze her nipple, forming it into a tight little bud. Her back arches, filling my hand with more of her breast, her moans fresh off her tongue, rolling into my mouth, making this moment that much hotter.
Reaching between us, Noely unbuckles my pants and pushes them down over my ass along with my boxer briefs, exposing my hardened length. Pressing forward, before she can grip me, I run my cock along her flannel-covered crotch and revel in how I can feel her arousal beneath me, how I can feel how wet she is.
“Yes,” she moans again, now tilting her chin up, giving me access to her neck. I take advantage of her offering and bring my tongue down the sweet, silky column, before I remo
ve her shirt up and over her head.
While I move my lips to her breasts, she shucks her shorts, twisting her legs in and out of mine until she’s free of all fabric. Lying completely naked beneath me, writhing, and clinging to my hard body, she begs for more.
From the night we had our second date until now, we haven’t been able to keep our hands off each other. Almost every night we’ve stayed at each other’s houses, starting with conversation—usually—and then fucking each other on every surface possible. Tonight is no exception.
“I missed you today,” she rumbles beneath me.
“I missed you, baby,” I whisper in her ear, moving my lips to her mouth before I move my hardened length over her slick arousal.
“Mmm,” she moans, her hips rocking against me, the feeling so fucking good. “More.”
I know I said I was going to tease her, but there is no way in hell I can stop myself now. I need inside her right fucking now.
Grabbing the base of my cock, I find her center and, in one thrust, plunge myself forward. I swallow her moan with my mouth, eating up every last piece of pleasure rocketing through her as I bury myself so deep, so fucking deep.
Tight and smooth, so good, so addicting, so everything.
Using the couch as leverage, I grip the cushion below her, and play with her nipple with my other hand while I pull away from her mouth and stare at our connection, rocking in and out of her, in and out.
She tightens around me, her moans growing louder, her grasp on my arms magnetic. Moving quicker now, our impending orgasms on the brink, I keep my eyes fixed on our connection and every once in a while glance up to see Noely writhing beautifully, her lips parted, her breath gasping, and her eyelashes fluttering shut.
Faster, harder, longer . . . I swivel my hips and pinch her nipple. Her walls contract around my cock, the feeling so constricted, like there is no more room left to go. But I push in harder only to hear her gasp out my name, her back arching, and her fingers digging divots into my skin.
“Yes, God, yes!” Her body stiffens, her center thrumming around me, squeezing me so damn tight it only takes a few more pumps until I reach my orgasm. Gripping the couch tightly, I still as pleasure ricochets up my legs to my core and then down my arms, consuming me in euphoric bliss.
It has never been this good. Ever. There is only one reason why.
Snuggling in close, I fall to the couch and wrap my body around Noely, shucking my pants with my feet so they aren’t in the way. I bury my head in her hair and squeeze her tight, which makes her giggle.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, talking to her hair.
“You’re such an oxymoron.”
“Why’s that?” She smells so fucking good.
“Because, you act like this tough, stern businessman, when in reality, you’re just a giant softy who loves to cuddle.”
“And you’re complaining because?” I kiss along her neck.
“Not complaining at all, just making a statement, letting you know I’m onto you, Jack Valentine.”
I take a deep breath. “You should have known the first day we met I wasn’t truly the man I project on the outside, especially when we spent some of the night dancing under the stars while the waves crashed at our feet. I may be ruthless between office walls, but I’m a true romantic at heart.”
“You’re so right.” She turns in my arms and presses her soft hand against my rough jaw. “From the very beginning, I should have known you were NY152. It makes the most sense. The grand gesture, the love for Tom Hanks and using him as a way to reach my heart. Then you were able to make another profile. I guess in the moment I was blind. Scared.”
“But your heart wasn’t.” I kiss her lips.
“It wasn’t even in the slightest bit blind. It was incredible really. Every time you were around, even when I was on dates with the other guys, when I ran into you, my heart started pounding like I’d just finished running a marathon. I don’t think I told you about my date in the themed kitchens. But I was so confused that night. My heart beat loudly for you in your presence, when I ran into you blocks away from the venue. But I now think my mind protected my heart a little when out of range. I hate that we wasted precious time, but I also think it made us work harder to ensure we were certain about us.” This isn’t our first discussion about this. Maybe second or third. But it never gets old knowing from the very beginning, her heart connected with mine. And knowing she doesn’t hate me for stalling us.
“Is it pounding now?” I run my hand between her breasts, loving how soft they feel, and press my hand against her chest, the beat of her heart thrumming into my palm.
“Always when you’re around, Jack.”
I snuggle into her some more, because now? I can. I will never let go.
***
One Month Later . . .
“Babe, if you don’t get your pretty little ass out here in the next five minutes, we’re going to be late.”
“Almost done.”
Yeah, that’s what she said ten minutes ago.
Feeling impatient, I take another look at my watch, the second hand ticking away, causing a light sheen of sweat to form on my brow. We can’t be late. What is taking her so long?
“I’m sure you look great, Noely. No need to spend too much time in front of the mirror.”
“Jack, don’t you dare rush me.”
I run my hand over my face, calming my temper. “Well, maybe if you didn’t spend two hours at Dylan’s today you wouldn’t be running late.”
Note to all men out there: don’t take the route I am when trying to usher along your girl so you’re not late. Fuck, that’s not going to go over well. I should have taken my own advice.
“Excuse me?” Noely calls out, anger etched in her voice.
I’m already deep with that comment so might as well keep digging.
“You knew we had this party tonight,” I say casually but with a slight hint of nagging. Yeah, nagging. That’s what I’m resorting to at this point.
“And Dylan had an emergency and needed my help.”
“Don’t you think her husband could have helped her out? Finding a wart on your foot doesn’t necessarily scream best friend emergency to me. That’s more of a run to the store moment for wart removal.”
“Jack.” Oh, that tone. Shit. Noely raises her voice. “It’s a wart, a WART! We soderized that bitch right off her foot.”
“Now when you say we, you make it sound like you two actually did it, when the doctor just lasered it off. You didn’t have to be there.”
“Are you insane?” Noely is still calling out from the bathroom. Time is ticking away. Can’t we argue in the car on the way to the party? “A laser was coming at my friend, a freaking laser. Of course I was going to be there and hold her hand. She’s terrified of lasers.”
“And this party is important to me. You knew that.”
Is this our first fight? It seems like it, unless this qualifies as a disagreement.
There is a slam of the door and Noely’s heels click down the hall to the living room where I’m sitting on the arm of my couch. Hair bouncing with curls and her lithe body tucked into that goddamn green sequined dress, she puts her clutch under her arm and gestures toward the door, anger in her movements. “Well, let’s go before you have a coronary.”
She strides toward the front door, but I stop her by her elbow. Her scent is the first thing that hits me, sweet and seductive, then her hand comes to my chest from the abrupt stop in her movements.
I tilt her chin up so she has to look at me. “Hey, you look beautiful.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “Not going to happen, mister. I’m mad at you.”
I move my hands down her back and cup her ass, the green sequins burying into my palms. “You can’t be mad at me when I’m mad at you.”
“What?” She pushes against my chest but I keep my hold on her, not letting her budge. “How on earth are you mad at me? For being a good friend?”
“No, f
or putting Dylan over me. You knew this was important to me, Noely.” My hands slip further down her dress to the hem and then slowly start to pull the tight fabric up.
“I didn’t put Dylan first. I’m ready, aren’t I? I’m here, ready to go.”
“That’s not what I mean. We had plans for today. We were supposed to watch Catch Me if You Can and have pizza before this party.” I slip the dress up and over her butt and she barely flinches when I grip her bare ass, causing a wave of lust to shoot up my spine. “Instead, I ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and watched a rerun of some Hallmark movie on TV by myself.”
The anger that once laced her eyes morphs into understanding as she steps into my embrace even closer. “Are you telling me, you wished we’d hung out today instead of you being alone? Did you wonder if I was going to make it to your party?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. When we get the chance, which is usually on the weekends with our schedules now, I want to spend as much time with you as I can get.”
She stands on her toes and presses a kiss against my chin, not even caring that I’m moving her dress even farther up her body . . . to her ribcage.
“Aw, you were lonely today.”
“I was.” I pout, loving the affection she’s bestowing upon me. I know, a pouting businessman, what’s that about? You’ll see in a second.
I move her dress up even higher until I reach her breasts. “You know, any higher and that dress is going to be off my body. That’s really going to make us late.”
“That’s the point, babe. You know you can’t wear this dress and get away with me not taking it off the minute I see it.” I undo the zipper on the side and peel off the rest of the dress until she’s standing in front of me completely naked. I am such a fucking lucky bastard. Standing back for a second, I run my hand over my jaw and study her. “Well, fuck. What am I supposed to do now?”
Closing the distance between us, she presses her body against mine and says, “I owe you a little loving, don’t I? I don’t like to make you sad.”
She rubs against my body, my cock swelling instantly. See, this is what a simple pout can get you. But don’t overuse it. It’s a powerful tool only to be used when absolutely necessary. Like when you’re late for a party but want to fuck your girl so bad that you fake being sad so it’s okay.
