The Blind Date

by Alice Ward

  When the last waves subsided, I set her back down on the counter and pressed my forehead to hers, both of us panting for breath. She stroked my back, running her fingers down the contours of my body, to my ass and back up to my shoulders.

  She smiled at me as I licked a bit of cake off her shoulder. It was still sweet, mingling with the salt of our sweat. It was dark now, the only light the moonlight and streetlights filtering in through the open glass door to the balcony.

  “I may not have fed you the healthiest dinner,” I said to her, pressing my lips to hers. “But at least we made up for it with the workout.”

  She kissed me back, her lips curving into a smile. “Definitely.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Juliana

  After I’d gotten healthy during my last year of high school, my father used to joke that I’d turned into a whirlwind.

  I tirelessly pursued things. I never stopped. Never rested.

  But maybe, all that time, I’d been missing something, chasing after something I couldn’t quite define.

  Because when the sun began to poke up over the horizon, making its way into the unfamiliar bedroom, I didn’t even stir.

  I’d gotten the best night of sleep I’d had in years.

  When I did stir from my dreams, without opening my eyes, I knew something was different.

  Hobbes wasn’t next to me, his fur tickling my skin. My chenille blanket, the one I always wrapped myself in, was gone, replaced by smooth, silken sheets.

  And I could smell him. That woodsy, citrusy aftershave permeating my every pore. Him, and… coconut.

  Well, I had pretty much bathed in him and the Coco Crazies last night. I was quite sure he’d left no part of my skin unexplored by his tongue and hands. I could still feel the pressure of him inside me, stretching and filling the deepest part of me. I was still kind of sticky from the sugar. My chin had been rubbed raw by his stubble and those fierce, demanding kisses. Ordinarily, it’d be uncomfortable, but as I snoozed contentedly, feeling his body, warm and hard beside me, I really felt… satisfied.

  That was the only word for it. For the first time, I felt content just to lie there.

  Until I finally tore open my eyes and rolled over to find the time. The first thing I saw was his expensive watch on the night table. I squinted to read the time.

  Holy hell. Nine-thirty.

  I scrambled out of bed, thinking of where I’d be right now had this been an ordinary day. At the office, already an hour into my workday, eating my first healthy snack of the day, hummus and carrots.

  I’d totally blown that one.

  Nine-thirty?

  Had I ever slept that late before in my life?

  I stumbled through the room, wondering where I’d left my purse. I vaguely remembered Zach taking it from me and dropping it on some piece of furniture in the great room when I’d walked in. Then, there’d been the walk out onto the balcony, the kisses, and of course… who could forget what happened in the kitchen?

  I didn’t think I’d ever look at Coco Crazies in the same way ever again.

  “Hey.”

  I whirled before I got to the door and saw him, propped up on one elbow, looking at me with a sleepy grin and sexy bedhead.

  “Good morning,” I said awkwardly, realizing too late that in my haste I’d been tearing through his bedroom naked.

  I stood there, wishing for a sheet to wrap myself in as his eyes did a slow and thorough scan of my body. “Come back to bed,” he said, slowly, sexily.

  “I have work. Don’t you have someplace to be?”

  He groaned as if he’d just remembered. “Work. But you know, I own the place, so… I think I’ll play hooky, because this… you… are more important to me right now.” My heart fluttered as he reached out and took my hand. “Ever do that?”

  I shook my head, mentally going over my appointment list. I’d missed two sessions already and probably had four more appointments before the day was out. “I’ve never even called in sick,” I moaned. “And I took my first personal day ever just yesterday.”

  “It’s not a sin.”

  He didn’t understand. All those clients depended on me. They braved city traffic… for me. And I didn’t have the decency to show up? Or call? Or anything?

  I really sucked as a human.

  “I can’t. I need my phone,” I said, opening the door. If I sent a message to June, the receptionist at Healthy Steps, right away, maybe she could call my next appointment and tell them I’d be late.

  But then I made the mistake of looking back at him.

  Him, with his hair falling in his eyes. With a sheet thrown carelessly over his midsection. With all that tanned, muscular goodness on full display. With his green eyes giving me that come-hither glint.

  Damn, he’s hot.

  That was all my brain could manage right then. It just went cavewoman on me, so only basic thoughts stuck.

  He lifted the sheet, baring the gloriousness underneath, and patted the bed beside him.

  That urgent need for my phone?

  What phone?

  I took one step toward him before reason won out. “I can’t. I need to get unsticky and then I really have to go.”

  Before he could tempt me further, I whirled and went scurrying naked through his apartment. Locating my purse on the red sofa in front of the fireplace. I pulled out my phone, and saw I had another text from Leah. Actually, she’d been texting me since she’d gotten back from Vegas. The first ones were asking how my open forum presentation had gone, others talking about her upcoming date with Secret Agent Brock, later ones asking if I was okay, and the most recent one asking if I had fallen into a ditch and was decomposing somewhere.

  Making a mental note to text her back on my way to work, I texted June, doing my best not to lie. Running really late! I’ll try to be in by noon. Please cancel the rest of my morning appointments if you can!

  Running late? That was an understatement.

  I put down the phone and looked around his apartment. Our little kitchen escapade aside, which had sprayed cake all over the floor and spotted granite counter, the place was spotless and bare. Cold. Either he was really clean, or he had a maid. I had a knickknack on every available surface, mostly pictures of friends, family, Hobbes. I liked stuff. I was sentimental and grew attached to things easily. This place looked like a hotel room.

  Well, it made sense. He’d wanted an escort, not a relationship.

  I had to wonder. Yes, he’d said I was most important. But maybe he meant right then. Not for anything longer than that. Did Zachary Vaughn ever attach himself to anything or anyone?

  And when he said he cared about creating healthier foods and combatting obesity, was that just a passing thing? Something he said to get me in bed? Or did he mean it? Would he put his money where his mouth was when the time came, or would he forget all about it?

  I went back to the bedroom and heard the water for the shower running. The bathroom door was open, so I went inside to find Zach’s glorious body blurred by the frosted glass of the giant shower.

  He must have sensed me there because he opened the door a moment later, the steam floating out and putting the entire room in a thick, dreamy fog. “Join me, sticky girl.”

  It wasn’t an invitation, it was an order. And yes, we were deliciously sticky. Even though we’d licked each other clean, my skin felt tight and filmy.

  I piled my hair on top of my head, knotting it messily as he motioned me forward. Closer. Closer. Then he kissed me, his tongue sliding between my lips softly, doing that thing he did best, making me forget how to do simple things like breathe and stand.

  Steam wafted around the cramped bathroom, casting everything in a hazy, dreamlike state. I stepped in, letting the water soak my skin, my hair, as he watched me, wet and rapt. His cock was hard again, growing ever harder.

  And all those fears about him not being serious about a relationship? Whoosh. There they went, out the window.

  I didn’t c
are. I wanted him, any way I could get him.

  Right now, that meant wet and soapy.

  He grabbed a thick bar and lathered it in his palms. Obviously, he had the same designs on me. He motioned for me to whirl.

  I did. I squirmed as he ran his soapy hands up and down my chest, his slick hands gliding over my skin. I could tell from how thorough he was being that he enjoyed just touching me.

  I enjoyed it too. Too much for this to be just a fling. I wanted something like this, every minute of my life. “Keep going,” I teased him.

  “You’re all done.”

  Oh, he knew how to make me want him, deliriously. Ravenously. Well, two could play at that game.

  Motioning for the soap, I grinned when he handed it to me.

  I lathered him up, my hands moving over his body. When I reached for his cock, it was already rock-hard again. I took it in my hand. Caressing his balls, my eyes never leaving his, I intended to give him the hand job to end all hand jobs, something he’d never forget. I wanted to make him beg for me and then leave him gasping for more. Wanted him to want me… need me… again.

  “That feels so good.”

  My hands moved harder, faster on him. He tilted his head back and groaned as the spray of water hit his face. Then he reached forward and grabbed my shoulders. His hands slid down to my wrists, and he pinned me against the wall, rendering me immobile.

  I fought against him, wanting control.

  He held me tight. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

  I stopped struggling and grinned at him innocently. “Nothing. I’m naked.”

  His eyes turned wolfish, scraping down to my breasts. “Yes, you are.” Our skin was slick, but he had me trapped against the shower wall. “Look at me.”

  I had no choice but to look at his green eyes, burning with intensity. “Turn around.”

  Swallowing hard, I did as he said. His cock pressed into my ass as he bent over my back to whisper in my ear, “Tell me you don’t love the way this feels.”

  I couldn’t deny it. How could I lie and deny it?

  I surrendered, feeling his tongue trailing over my back, spreading kisses there. My hair had come loose, so I tossed the wet, tangled mess over my shoulder to give him access. His hands ran over my ribs until he was cupping my breasts, kneading them under his fingers.

  Pressing back against him, I spread my legs wider, then reached back, guiding his cock to my entrance.

  “Condom,” he murmured.

  I looked back at him. If I was going to trust him, I needed to trust him fully. “Are you really clean? If so, I’m on the pill.”

  His eyes opened in surprise. “You are? You didn’t tell me that before.”

  He was right. I hadn’t. I also hadn’t trusted him before. But something between us had suddenly shifted. And I didn’t want to play games with him. I wanted to open myself, raw and honest, to someone, and have him do the same to me. I wanted Zach to be that person.

  “Can I trust you?”

  My eyes burned with the vulnerability that question caused. His eyes softened, and he pulled me back against him.

  “Yes, Juliana. You can trust me. I promise I’m clean. I’ve never been bare with a woman before. Never thought I’d trust anyone enough to do so.” He pressed his lips into my hair. “I trust you. You can trust me. Let me in. Let me show you I’m true to my word.”

  A tear escaped, and I turned my head so he couldn’t see he. Pressing my hands to the wall, I bent over, giving him access. Welcoming him. Trusting him. God, help me.

  He made a sound I couldn’t comprehend and had no time to think about because he was inside me, balls deep, pressing me to the wall. The steam from the shower swirled around us as he fucked me from behind, entering me and pulling out slowly, steady. I rocked back and forth to meet his thrust, moving faster and then even faster, until we were crashing together.

  “God, Zach,” I moaned. “Please don’t stop.”

  He didn’t.

  I screamed out my release, finding it again only a second later as our bodies continually came together. He growled, and I felt his whole body pulsate, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he unleashed himself into me.

  Afterward, I sagged against him.

  And I knew for damn sure I was going to be calling in sick, for the first time, ever.

  He picked up the soap and began washing me again. If I’d been self-conscious before, all of that went away as he didn’t miss an inch.

  “If I took the day off…” I ventured as the last of the bubbles slid off my skin in the spray of the shower, “would you go somewhere with me?”

  He walked under the shower and let it drench his hair. He looked adorable like that, with his hair plastered across his forehead. “I’m intrigued.”

  “Good. Then we’re doing it. No backing out now.”

  “Uh-oh.” He turned off the water, pushed open the door, and grabbed two fluffy gray bath sheets. He wrapped one around my shoulders. “That sounds ominous. You going to tell me more?”

  I zipped my lips and pretended to toss away the key. “Nope. Secret.”

  He flicked his towel at me before slinging it loosely around his waist. “Fine. I’ll be your willing test subject. Just know that if it involves a gym or physical activity of any sort, I am not going to be happy.”

  I stared at him. “What? But you…” He had abs. Dammit. He had killer abs. I had to work like a woman possessed to get a single ab to pop up on my belly. “Are you serious?”

  “You heard me. I don’t do the gym.”

  Right. Like he doesn’t do health food.

  It only made me more certain that what he’d said yesterday afternoon, about looking into ways to make Vaughn’s food healthier, was bullshit. If he could stay in such amazing shape eating whatever he wanted without working out, he had little sympathy for those of us who couldn’t.

  I’d just have to make him understand. Make him have a little sympathy. I would convince him, that was all there was to it.

  I sucked in a breath. “You’re in luck. It’s not the gym. I thought we could go somewhere for lunch.”

  In his bedroom, I squeezed into the same clothes I’d worn yesterday, wetting paper towels to get off all the specks of coconut and icing. I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t think he’d have anything suitable for me to wear. I sat on the edge of his bed, peering through the double mirrored doors of his enormous walk-in closet and admiring those dents in his ass as he slid into his boxer briefs. It wasn’t fair that he could achieve an ass that perfect just by sitting on it all day.

  Then my eyes flickered to the closet itself. Holy cow. It looked like the men’s section of a department store. “Do you own any article of clothing that doesn’t come in three pieces?”

  “Nope. Well, I sometimes forgo the vest.”

  “Wow. That’s daring.”

  Sure enough, he had rows and rows of suits lined up neatly. Some black. Some gray. Some navy blue. Twenty pairs of dress shoes that as far as I was concerned, were exactly the same. White dress shirts that probably cost more apiece than my weekly salary. Even his ties, on an expansive revolving rack, were dull, all solid, muted burgundies and gunmetal gray-blues.

  “Wow. You definitely like to live on the edge when it comes to fashion.”

  He selected a gray suit, a shirt, and a dark blue tie, and laid them on the bed. “I’ll have you know that my suits are the latest fashion. I donate anything older than three years to Goodwill.”

  My mouth gaped open, like my jaw had come unhinged. Did men’s suits really change that much?

  “Besides. Suits are just easier.”

  “Easier? But they’re not more comfortable. What about… clothes to just hang out in?”

  “I don’t hang out.” He said the phrase like it was foreign. “Don’t have the time.”

  “So, when you go to watch the game with friends, what do you wear?”

  “Dress pants and a blazer.”

  “At a bar?” I nearly chok
ed. “And when you were at college, you wore…”

  “Dress pants and a blazer.”

  I wrinkled my nose. At college? At college, the most dressed-up shoes I owned were Reef flip-flops. Also, I thought I wore the same pair of jeans all semester to avoid having to go to the laundry that was three floors away.

  “Like… but you have to have a pair of jeans, right?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  Holy shit. The boy didn’t even own a pair of jeans. Didn’t that make him un-American? I wondered if he’d have his citizenship revoked if he was ever found out. “Sweats?”

  Part of his upper lip curled in distaste. “Why?” he asked, as if I’d asked him why he didn’t have a third foot.

  Right. No gym. No sweats. But still, even just to…

  “What about to, um, relax? Sleep in?”

  “I don’t really relax, and if I do, I can do it in a suit.” He grinned. “And if I’m feeling extra relaxed, I’ll take off the jacket. Suits are far more comfortable than you give them credit for, if you just get used to them. Wearing sweats and jeans is really the downfall of modern civilization. And I sleep in the nude. Don’t you?”

  “No!” Just because I’d been naked the nights I’d spent with him didn’t mean I always did that. No, in fact, when I was home alone, I preferred my fluffy pajamas very much. “What if there’s a fire in the building and you have to leave in a hurry?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “Then I guess my neighbors get a free show.”

  I found myself grinning goofily at him and put myself in check. I refused to count myself as smitten by Mr. No Exercise, No Sweats, Heigh-di-Ho. I definitely should not have been as impressed as I was.

  “You are so weird,” I muttered as he finished buttoning his shirt and scooped a pair of cufflinks off the dresser.

  He acted like that was a sentence that needed finishing and added, “In a good way.”

  “If you say so.” I went to the bathroom, finger combed my hair and pulled it back in an elastic I fished from my purse. I even managed a little lip gloss and mascara, wishing I’d stuffed an emergency pair of underwear in there too.