by Hazel Kelly
I look down and do my best to feign ignorance. “Gosh. Thanks for pointing that out,” I say, making no move to fix it.
“If you’re trying to seduce me, I’ll be very disappointed.”
I squint at him. “Because…?”
“Because I have this whole plan.” He reaches behind him and pulls a red envelope from where it’s tucked in the back of his pants.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a list.”
“What kind of list?” I try to reach for it, but he pulls it away before removing his jacket and tossing it on the couch.
“It’s a list to replace your other lists,” he says. “A list to consult in the event that you feel yourself on the urge of nonsensical panic again.”
I glare at him.
He hands it to me.
I lean against the edge of the desk and open the envelope. The card is white and has red script on it that says, “You’re the one that I want” on it. When I open it, I’m surprised to see what lovely handwriting he has. It’s sort of a hurried, light cursive, and in it, he’s written, “Top Ten Reasons Why I’m Perfect for You.”
“Would you like me to read it to you?” he asks.
I nod and hand it back to him.
He clears his throat and glances up at me before directing his eyes back to the card. “Reason number ten: The sound of your laugh is music to my ears.”
I smile.
“Number nine: I know how to make any drink you could possibly want.”
I laugh. “That is a very attractive quality.”
“Number eight: What you see is what you get. I will never bullshit you or play games or hide my feelings, for better or for worse.”
I cock my head.
“Number seven: I know how to treat a lady such as yourself.”
“Prove it,” I say, flashing my eyes at him.
“In a moment,” he says, holding a palm up between us. “Don’t pop another button on me.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“I’m trying to concentrate,” he says. “Number six: I would do anything to make you smile.”
“I figured that out when you said you wrote me a list. That’s basically foreplay for a girl like me.”
One side of his mouth curls up. “Number five: I will always put your sexual needs before my own.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“Number four,” he says. “I will always encourage you to have another bowl of pasta, another glass of wine, and another scoop of gelato.”
“Go on.”
“Number three: You don’t have to a worry with a guy like me. I’m loyal to a fault, and I will never betray your trust.”
I press my lips together, moved by the sincerity in his unshaking voice. But how could I not be? I haven’t received a handwritten card on Valentine’s Day since I was in second grade, and those were mandatory.
“Number 2: I will never take you for granted.”
I touch his arm. “Wait.”
“What?” he asks, furrowing his brow.
“I don’t want the list to end.”
He rolls his eyes. “There’s only one more.”
“Fine,” I say. “What is it? What’s the number one reason you’re perfect for me?”
“Reason number one,” he says, closing the card. “Is that this isn’t the only list I made for you.”
My eyes widen. “What? What are you talking about?”
He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a handful of folded papers.
“What are those?”
He opens the first one and scans his eyes along the page. “Ten sexual positions I’d like to try with Ruby,” he says, unfolding another. “Ten authentic Italian dishes I want to make for you.”
I watch him toss the papers on my desk and open another. “Ten places in Europe I’d like to visit with you.” He flicks his eyes up at me and then looks at the next list. “Ten rooftop restaurants to take Ruby to this summer.”
I smile and shake my head.
“Ten movies that will scare Ruby so bad she’ll have no choice but to hold on to me for dear life.”
“I get it,” I say. “You’re crazy about me.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
I lay a hand on his chest and lean forward to kiss him.
He holds my face before letting his heavy hands slide down my neck and over my chest, grazing my breasts before he starts undoing my buttons.
“Can I be honest with you?” I ask between kisses as I gather the bottom of his shirt in my hands and pull it out from his jeans.
“Always.”
I lean back, gasping for breath as I pull his shirt off over his head. “I’ve always wanted to get fucked on my desk,” I say, wiggling out of my shirt.
“That’s funny,” he says, reaching around to find the zipper on my skirt.
“Is it? I thought it was a pretty normal fantas—”
“No,” he says, shoving my skirt down so it falls to the floor. “I mean funny because it’s on the list.”
I smile as he kisses me again and reach for his belt, but when he moves his hand between my legs, I feel unsteady on my heels and grip his shoulders to keep from rolling an ankle. “God I’ve missed you,” I say when I feel his hand graze the length of my slit.
“Your body is my fucking kryptonite,” he growls against my lips as he warms me up, wetting his fingers in my silk. He bites my bottom lip when he pushes his fingers inside me, and I cry out as my pussy stretches around him.
When my head falls back, his lips drop to my neck, and he whispers my name before sucking my delicate skin between his teeth.
I moan as he forces me open again and again, whipping my insides into a frenzy until all I can hear is the sound of my shallow panting. I dig my nails into his shoulders, his muscles twitching against my palms as his hands ravage my body. Finally, a white heat starts to grow inside me, and I can’t feel my legs anymore.
He pulls his hand from me and spins me around then, bending me forward and hoisting one of my legs up onto my desk.
I brace myself when I feel him drag the bare tip of his dick across my heat.
He sinks inside me a moment later, kneading the cheeks of my ass in his large hands. At first he takes his time, moving inside me so slowly I ache for him, but after a few long thrusts, he establishes a gentle rhythm and leans closer, reaching around to pinch my nipples, fondle my breasts, and press his hand flat against my stomach as he pleasures me from the inside out.
“I want to feel you come on my dick, Ruby,” he growls against my ear. “I want to feel your pussy suck my cock.”
I clench around him, and he picks up the pace, holding my hips as he fucks me good. I manage to hold myself up as he pounds me…until I feel his finger massaging the rim of my asshole, sending shooting sensations up my lower spine that I’ve never felt before. I fall forward and grip the edge of my desk, crushing my breasts beneath me as he fucks and teases me at the same time.
And just when I think it can’t get any more intense, he slips his finger into my tight ass.
My eyes and mouth open wide.
“Relax,” he says, screwing his finger deeper.
I want to tell him it feels good, but I can’t speak. I’m too distracted by the shock of sensations I feel as he works his finger inside me and finds my clit with his other hand. “Fuck,” I breathe, my body burning.
“Come on, Ruby,” he says. “Coat my dick.”
I don’t even know where the pleasure is coming from anymore. All I know is that it’s too much and it’s making my eyes water. I squeeze them shut and arch my back, making it easier for him to work me over. “I’m going to come,” I say.
Geo holds a steady pace, and I explode, shaking over my desk and gasping for breath as I pour over him. A few thrusts later, he moves his hands to my hips, bracing himself as he empties his load inside me, filling my red-hot center with everything he has.
I slide my raised leg off the desk, and he b
ends over me, pushing my hair out of my face and kissing my cheekbone. “That was amazing,” he says, still throbbing inside me.
“You really didn’t need to get flowers if you were going to do that,” I say, my flushed face crushed against the desk.
He laughs, and I feel it in his dick right before he leans up and slides out of me.
My ass feels strangely exposed without him sunk inside me, and when I right myself, a puddle of our mixed pleasure drips down my inner thigh. I grab a tissue from the corner of my desk and wipe it up, wondering if I’ll ever reach for another tissue in my office without recalling this moment.
“So I take it you’ll be my Valentine?” he asks, doing his pants back up.
“I’ll be anything you want me to be for treatment like that,” I say, still trying to catch my breath.
“My girlfriend then,” he says, stepping back up to me.
“Okay,” I say, my smile spreading up to my eyes. “If you’re really that sure you can’t live without me.”
“I am,” he says. “Besides, if I don’t stick around, who’s going to tell you when your shirt’s come undone?”
“Good point. I better hold on to you.”
He tilts my chin up and fixes his dark eyes on mine. “As tight as you want, babe. I’m not going anywhere.”
F I F T E E N
I can feel Geo’s eyes on me before I open my own, and when I do, he’s smiling at me, his dark features enhanced by his crisp white pillowcase.
“Good morning,” he says, his first words coming out a bit husky.
“Good morning,” I say, stretching my legs straight like a cat and letting out a wide yawn.
He pulls me to him, wrapping his strong body around mine.
“You’re so warm,” I say, suddenly conscious of his erection when he crushes it against my belly. “Like a furnace.”
He kisses me lightly on the lips, slides a hand over the curve of my hip, and cups my ass. “Oh good,” he says, squeezing my cheek. “Still there.”
I roll my eyes.
He drags his hand back over my hip and reaches between my legs.
My eyes smile. “Pretty sure I woke up with all my parts this morning.”
“You can’t be too careful,” he says, teasing my clit in a gentle circle. “It’s better to check, don’t you think?”
“I mean, I trust your judgement.”
“Can I be honest with you?” he asks, propping his head up on his free hand.
“Of course,” I say, enjoying the waves of warmth he’s sending through my sleepy body.
“I think I better take a closer look.” He ducks under the covers before I can say anything and spreads my thighs apart with his big hands.
When I fell his warm breath on me, I press my head into the pillow and brace myself.
He lays his tongue against me a moment later, circling my clit and then lapping at my opening.
“This is my favorite way to wake up,” I whisper.
“Me too,” he says between licks.
I laugh at the talking mound of covers right before he enters me, my pussy clenching down on his tongue. It feels so good my eyes grow heavy again, and I give in, closing them as the puddle grows between my legs and his tongue’s enthusiasm for splashing in it increases.
My legs writhe when the first spark of heat shoots through me, and he grabs them, pinning them against the bed so I can’t escape his heavy, eager tongue. I moan and tilt my lower back against the bed, raising my hips to him.
He puts his mouth over me, French kissing my pussy until the heat is too much to bear.
“Geo,” I whimper. “Oh god, don’t stop.” I squeeze the sheets in my fists as he picks up the pace, licking and lapping at me until I’m melting in his mouth. “I’m going to come,” I say, raising my hands over my head so my breasts pop out from under the covers.
I spasm a moment later, jerking against his face, but he holds me still, covering me with his mouth so I spill down his throat. I cry out when his tongue grazes my sensitive clit, shaking again in his arms as he drinks me.
When I stop shaking, he drags his mouth across my inner thigh and crawls over me, sticking his head out from under the covers sporting a smile that’s almost as big as my own. “How’s that for a wakeup call?”
“Pretty damn good,” I say, reaching down to grab his dick. “But it appears I’m not the only one who’s awake.”
He flashes his eyebrows at me and lifts his hips so I can guide him inside me.
As soon as the tip of his dick touches my warm slit, he tilts his hips and dips inside, furrowing his brow as he stretches me open.
I keep my eyes on his as he gives me one inch at a time, forcing the breath from my lungs.
He groans when I’ve sucked him all the way in, and I want him so bad my whole body aches. I take a shallow breath right before he lowers his lips to mine, kissing me as he rocks his hips nice and slow. He feels so good my body glows, and though I haven’t told him yet, this is my new favorite thing.
Yes, I still love the fast and furious fucking that constitutes the majority of our excessively active sex life, but in the last few weeks, he’s started loving me in this slower, more sensual way. I mean, I hate the phrase “making love,” but in practice, I’m a huge fan. I find it sustains me in a way I’ve never known before, a way that makes me walk taller, smile bigger. A way that makes me feel more comfortable in my own skin.
It’s a new kind of sex for me, a kind I assume only a real man is capable of. And it strikes me as funny that I was so afraid to pursue a mature relationship when the depth and richness of emotion this man has incited in me has already proved to be the most rewarding experience I’ve ever had.
He hasn’t said it yet—that he loves me—but for the first time in my life I can feel it all over. All the time. In the way he looks at me, in the way he touches me. In the way he remembers little things I mumble to myself when I think he’s not even listening.
It’s crazy to be with someone so attentive, so thorough, so undeniably sexy in all these little ways I never thought a person could be… Like how he always leaves the paper open to the parts he knows I read and how he always puts on music I like if he comes home to find me drinking wine in the tub.
And while he’s as confident as he is uncompromising when it comes to business, he’s secure enough to be silly with me, too, to be patient. He’s never once complained that I take too long to get ready or hassled me for running late. Not only does he insist I’m worth waiting for, but his actions actually back up his kind words.
It’s so uplifting I feel like I’m jacked up on lithium all the time.
I sink my nails into his muscular back and hug him to me, dragging my lips against his ear and nibbling his lobe. “Come for me,” I whisper.
He grabs a clump of my bedhead, pulling my hair just enough to wake my scalp as he raises his face to look at me.
I bat my eyelashes at him, bite my lip, and will him to fill me up.
He looks at me as he comes, his clenched jaw muffling the sound of his groan as he thrusts as deep as he can before collapsing on top of me.
I slide my hands down his back and curl my fingertips against his lower spine while his dick surges inside me a few more times.
“Geo,” I whisper.
“Ruby,” he pants against my neck.
“I have to tell you something,” I say, clenching my pussy around him.
He raises onto his elbows and kisses me. “What?”
“I loved that.”
A sly smile spreads across his face.
“And I love you,” I say, laying a hand on his cheek.
“Not as much as I love you.”
“Yes I do. Maybe more.”
He shakes his head. “Impossible.”
“It’s true.”
He shrugs. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“You’re so stubborn.”
He smiles and rolls onto his side, letting one hand slide across my chest unti
l it finds my breast. “You love that about me.”
I nod. “I do love that about you. It’s true.”
He drops his head onto his pillow.
I sigh. “Do you think it can get any better than this?”
“What?”
“Us.”
“No,” he says. “I’d say we’re pretty much doomed now that we’ve admitted to each other that we’re in love.”
My face drops. “Oh no. Really? In that case, I take it back.”
“Love doesn’t work that way, babe. You can’t take it. You can only give it.”
“How does it grow then?”
“You keep giving it,” he says. “And the more you give, the more you get.”
“That explains a lot.”
He furrows his brow. “Does it?”
“Yeah. It explains why I feel so much of it right now, anyway.”
He smiles.
“Because I love you more.”
He laughs. “And I’m the stubborn one?”
“What do you want to do today?”
He sticks out his bottom lip and thinks for a second. “I thought we’d do the same thing we did last Sunday.”
“What? Check off a few more items on those lists you put together?”
He nods.
“Which lists?” I ask.
“Let’s mix it up and tackle restaurants I want to take you to and sexual positions.”
“I think we’ve gone through that second list several times now.”
He raises his thick brows. “I don’t remember getting any complaints before.”
“Maybe we should start a new list and swing by a sex shop,” I say. “What do you think?”
He laughs. “I think that settles it,” he says, leaning over to kiss my forehead. “I definitely love you more.”
E P I L O G U E
It’s like being in a postcard.
When I look to the right, there are rolling fields covered in uniform rows of grapevines as far as the eye can see, and no matter how many times I look in that direction, it takes my breath away.
Straight ahead there’s a cluster of tan clay houses, their walls as dusty and imperfect as if they erupted from the ground on their own. Still, there’s a romance in how rustic they are, in knowing that they were probably constructed by hand long before the people here embraced more modern building methods and materials.
