Him or Me

by Veronica Larsen

  I grab his shirt and kiss him, shutting him up. The sound of the children calling out, "Eewwww!" is absolutely perfect. And for a few short seconds, I've escaped to another universe, where all that matters is the feel of Heath's mouth on mine, the heat of his palms on my waist, and the smell of his cologne carrying away my senses.

  Until four of the kids run up and pull Heath and me apart. One of them scolding me, "No kissing boys, Ms. Grace."

  Another holds a finger up at Heath. "Keep your hands to yourself."

  But Heath looks right at me, grinning, and replies, "Never again."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Grace

  HE'S WEARING BLACK SLACKS and a royal blue button-down shirt. I've never seen him dressed like this. He looks dashing and sharp as he peruses the menu.

  This place is beautiful. The decor is trendy, the clientele dressed to the nines, and while the food choices on the menu are mouthwatering, they are also ridiculously overpriced.

  I fiddle with the napkin on my lap and bite my lip.

  What I'm about to say might just ruin the mood, but I can't help myself.

  "Heath…" His gaze lifts to mine and I smile. Because I see it all there on his face, how hard he's trying to impress me, how nervous he feels about our first date. "This place is great. Really, it's so amazing. But honestly? I don't think it's us." His shoulders sag a fraction. Guilt floods me, but it's too late to turn back now. "Do you know what's us? Burgers."

  "Burgers?" He sets the menu down, surveying me carefully as though to gauge whether it's what I really want, because it's obvious by the way his eyes light up at the mention of a burger, it's precisely what he wants. Smiling, I nod in silence, egging on the thoughts I can't hear but know are running through his head. Finally, the corners of his mouth lift as well and he says, "I know a place nearby."

  We leave the restaurant, hand in hand, into the beautiful summer evening. I hook my arm through his and enjoy our banter as we weave through the streets of the upper east side to a small burger place off of East 79th Street. We take the food to-go and polish off the burgers a few blocks away on the steps of the Met. And there we sit, framed by the museum's gorgeous architecture, talking and laughing and breathing-in the energy between us.

  I feel alive, more than I've felt in a very long time.

  I'm already certain this is the best date I've ever been on. But after we finish our meal, Heath decides we should go for a stroll through central park. We walk along tree-lined trails and the lampposts grow brighter as dusk descends upon us.

  "Is this romantic as fuck, or what?" Heath asks.

  He looks proud of himself, so pleased to have dreamt up this date for me. I kiss him right there under a maple tree, my heart so full it might just burst.

  Soon the sky turns a dark, velvety blue, and I get the urge to tell Heath we should head back out of the park right around the time we reach Belvedere Castle. The name is misleading. Though beautiful, the dainty Romanesque structure is only a castle by name, a folly. It sits atop a hill in the middle of Central Park and draws in tourists with its views of the Fifth Avenue skyline. The structure is cast in shadow tonight, clearly closed for the day. Heath pulls me in its direction anyway, leading me up the steps and onto the balcony that serves as an observation deck.

  "Have you ever seen it like this?" he asks, looking around. "We've got the whole damn place to ourselves."

  He turns me around to face the view beyond the park's landscape—New York City in all its glory, twinkling down at us like it knows all of our secrets. I've never seen the city from this vantage point.

  "This is beautiful," I say. The sounds of the city are so distant they might as well be part of a different world. "But we're trespassing."

  "Oh yeah?" He guides me closer to the ledge and lowers his lips to my neck. "Who's going to tell on us?"

  Not I, said the schoolteacher.

  His kisses are patient. His lips trail up to my ear, sending a rush of energy down my body, collecting between my thighs. And when he brings his body flush to mine, my eyes widen at what I feel pressing against me. His hard-on is like a fucking lead pipe. And, good lord, I want him to beat me with it until I can't walk.

  "I want you," he says, his voice barely a whisper.

  But the whisper reverberates through me, and I squirm at the sensation of his warm palm parting my legs.

  "Here?"

  His warm breath washes over the sensitive skin behind my ear. "Here."

  He spins me around to face him, and his lips bury my own in a kiss so profound, it drowns my thoughts in its depth. My worries, my hesitations, they all disappear.

  I let his hands drag up my thighs, hiking my skirt up with them. I arch my back to give his hand easier access when he goes to touch me. Just as his fingers graze my center, he pulls back from our kiss.

  "Are you fucking kidding me right now, Grace? You didn't wear panties on our date?"

  I shrug, biting my lip.

  Heath looks like I've just unlocked a cage he's been living in for years.

  "Fucking hell," he mutters, undoing his belt, dropping his pants, and working quickly to wrap himself with a condom he seems to have suspiciously handy.

  "Were you expecting this?"

  "I was hoping for it like you wouldn't believe. I'm going to fuck the hell out of you."

  Hooking his hands just under my ass, he lifts me up, and I wrap my legs loosely around him. His hot mouth comes over mine just in time to stifle the long moan leaving my lips when his erection finds my entrance. He pushes in slowly, hands clutching me tightly by the thighs. I close my eyes when he thrusts all the way in because he fills me to the point of overflowing.

  It's insane and delicious torture, the way he slides in and out of me, slowly at first. Patient. He's so fucking patient. Then picking up momentum until I'm panting and desperate, my arms wrapped around his neck as he holds me up like I weigh five pounds.

  I whisper for him not to stop. I moan and I bite my lips to keep quiet. He makes low noises of satisfaction and the sounds stroke me almost as good as he does. Never, ever in my life have I been this turned on.

  "I've waited," he breathes into my ear, "so fucking long." He keeps his pace exhilarating, even as one of his hands holds me firmly by the ass, fingers burning into my skin. I've never before felt so light, so sensual. So utterly confident.

  I want to tell him how good he feels, how there's a cacophony of sensations inside of me. I want him to know he's fucking me right out of my own mind. But my words are muted by the desperate longing swirling around us, even as we grind against each other, all hot mouths tasting and heavy breaths. Our eagerness to take each other over the edge culminates with our movements reaching an all time desperate rhythm. I'm frazzled by the delicious sounds our bodies make when they connect. An orgasm rips through me, sudden and intense. Heath picks up his pace even further when he hears me biting out a wild moan. And when he finishes a few seconds after me, I drop my face onto his shoulder, breathe in his cologne, and laugh.

  He holds me for a moment, his arms wrapping around my back as though in a hug. Then I lower my legs and he slips out of me, and I'm all of a sudden acutely aware of where we are.

  Holy shit.

  "I better pull my pants back up before something jumps out of the dark and bites off my dick," he says.

  "I can't believe we just did that."

  He cleans up and pulls up his pants. As he tucks his shirt back into the waistband of his slacks, he looks at me with a mischievous expression that says, you made me do this.

  He helps me smooth my skirt back down, pulls me into another hug. The skin between my thighs is still wet, and I'm not sure that's going to change anytime soon.

  "Hey," he pauses, waiting for me to look at him. And when I do, I see the whole damn city reflected in his eyes. "Tonight was amazing. You're amazing. I can't believe you're mine."

  Butterflies tear through my stomach. He kisses my forehead, then my nose, and finally my lips. We look out ont
o the city, drunk off the night. Drunk off each other.

  Heath throws his hands up in the air and yells out, "I'm king of the world."

  I clasp a hand over his mouth, mortified his stunt will land us in trouble. Sure enough, the beam of a flashlight cuts through the night from a grassy area close to the trail. That sobers me right up.

  Heath curses under his breath.

  "Security?" I ask.

  "Maybe a cop."

  We crouch down and make our hurried escape back to the park. We snicker like teenagers, jogging away to put as much distance as possible between us and the city landscape we just desecrated. When we reemerge into the night traffic of Fifth Avenue, Heath pulls me close to his side, an arm around my waist. I feel so complete, beside him.

  I'm not just dating my best friend, I'm well on my way to falling desperately in love with him.

  THE END

  (Bonus scene ahead)

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Grace

  "LET'S TRY THIS ONE more time. Quiet on set, please."

  The short man behind the camera shoots me a pointed look and I hold up my hands in instant surrender.

  Heath sits against a white backdrop in front of the camera equipment. He's bathed so evenly by the bright studio lights on either side of him, it would be impossible to tell what time of day it is, unless I turned to the view behind me. A wall of windows frames a dark sky and The City That Never Sleeps. We're on the top floor of a building on Eighth Avenue, not far from the Empire State Building. In fact, I can see it like a beacon of light, poking through beyond the line of buildings outside. This studio, I'm told, is reserved for video productions such as this one. It's kept empty otherwise.

  "Action," the director calls.

  Heath waits a few seconds then begins, looking into the camera lens. "Once I discovered the ways power-napping increases productivity, reduces stress, and improves overall health, I set out on a mission. A mission to create the perfect napping environment." His expression is serious, but his tone charismatic. Knowing the hilarious and inappropriate guy behind this professional facade leaves me fighting the urge to laugh. I press the tips of my fingers to my lips to keep them shut. Earlier, I sucked in a sudden breath and when Heath's eyes locked with mine, we both exploded into a fit of laughter. "The Insta-napper was born. It's not just portable, lightweight, and ergonomically designed…"

  I can see the video in my head, I can imagine just how they'll edit in the shots they took earlier of Heath looking over drawings and examining fabrics. And watching him talk about his creation with his eyes bright and brimming with excitement makes my heart swell in my chest.

  After he's done his last take and the director yells cut!, I clap louder than anyone in the room, jumping up and down as Heath approaches me with a huge grin on his face.

  "Am I doing a good job at being the embarrassing girlfriend?" I ask him.

  He kisses me before answering. "Yes, you're amazing, I'm incredibly embarrassed."

  "No, you're amazing. You're such a natural. People are going to throw their money at you. They're going to make it rain dollar bills on you."

  "I didn't even have to twerk."

  Anyone watching us right now might think we are whispering sweeter words to each other. My arms wrapped around his neck, his hands at my waist, our foreheads pressed together as we talk. By all means, this is a nauseating public display of affection. But I'm loving every minute of it. It's like we're inside of an Insta-napper. Cocooned, warm, and utterly unconcerned with the outside world.

  Everyone around us is busy taking down equipment and packing up the set. Heath and I hurry to polish off the plate of donuts on the service table because letting them go to waste would be simply un-American. He thanks everyone as they leave the floor, and I mumble my appreciation through a mouthful of donuts as well. I really am the embarrassing girlfriend.

  "Can we stay a bit longer?" Heath asks the last person wheeling away a cart of props.

  The young guy shrugs and says, "I think they have a cleaning crew coming in the morning," then leaves us behind to make with that what we wish.

  The moment we're alone, I indulge in a big, childish twirl in the middle of the empty room. The twinkle of lights coming in from the wall of windows is mesmerizing, like we're on a giant platter being served to the city.

  Heath wraps his arms around me from behind and settles his chin on my shoulder to take in the view with me.

  "I can't believe I'm dating Heath Morgan, the inventor of the Insta-napper."

  "Laugh now, but I'll laugh harder on my boat in a few months."

  "I'm so proud of you," I say, just in case he doesn't already know. "Seriously, Heath. So fucking proud. Today was incredible. Seeing you in your element. Seeing all of these people putting together this big production for your brainchild. It's such a turn-on."

  "Yeah?"

  I know what he's going to do before he does it, but even so, his body pressing against me from behind floods me with warmth.

  "We've got dinner reservations," I remind him.

  His hand closes over my wrist to tilt my watch up. "We have thirty-five minutes…"

  "But what will we do with the other thirty-four and a half minutes?"

  I smile when he nips at my neck.

  "You're going to pay for that," he says, and he nudges me toward the back wall with each step he takes. "Put your hands on the glass. I'm going to fuck you right against it in front of the whole damn city."

  I stretch out my arms on either side of me, a flutter in my stomach as I stare down at the traffic below.

  Can anyone really see us?

  The next building as tall as the one we're in is a few blocks away, its windows small squares of light with nothing visible within.

  Screw it. If I'm going to do this, I'm going all in. I pull my blouse over my head and let it drop beside me. Then I make quick work of unbuttoning my jeans and tugging them off along with my panties, leaving just my bra. The lights in the room shut off and I gasp, glancing over my shoulder just as Heath comes back behind me.

  "Didn't think I'd let anyone else see my woman naked, did you?"

  He speaks the words into my neck, sending a delicious tingle down my spine. He presses his bare chest to my back and that's when I know he undressed as fast as I did. But his hands? They move slowly over me, caressing my stomach. He leans back and runs a hand gently down my spine, silently urging me to arch it. I do, and his erection slips through my parted legs and grazes the sensitive skin between my thighs. The vibrant lights of the cityscape before us blur as desire claims my focus. He guides his tip inside of me and I let out a sigh, the glass squeaking under my fingers as my hands attempt to close into fists.

  He's sliding in and out of me before I know it, propelled by the volume of my moans. The more noises I make, the faster he thrusts. The sounds I make match his accelerated rhythm without my trying. He's got a hand on my hip and another stretched out overhead, a palm flat against the glass to steady himself.

  "Fuck, Grace," he says, his voice strained.

  He doesn't stop, he doesn't slow. Not even when I'm driven over the edge and come with my face pressed to the glass, with the city in my open palms. He keeps going, voracious, savage, and greedy. He brings me crashing down then sweeps me upward again before I can recover, only to send me tumbling into another orgasm. I moan out his name, satiated, and this seems to unravel him. He groans out long and hard, pumping into me a few more times. Then pushing all the way in and holding himself there. He's still hard, and I'm so full.

  "I'll never get tired of hearing you say my name like that," he says in my ear. Then he kisses my neck, and whispers, "Look at us, with the city at our feet. And my cock buried inside of you." He rests his chin in the crook of my shoulder and, after a deep inhale, he says, "I'm in love with you, Grace."

  It's the first time he's said that to me and the words wrap me in warmth and certainty. This entire city? It pales in comparison to how crazy I am about him.

>   "I—"

  "I know," he says, kissing my neck. "I already know."

  THE END

  For real this time.

  Or is it?

  Okay, it is.

  For now…

  Thank you for reading.

  Please consider leaving a quick review!

  Have you read Jackson and Samantha's story YOU AND ME?

  For my next release, click here.

  Check out my full-length standalone novels in

  the angsty and sensual Hearts of Stone series

  ENAMOR | ENTANGLE | ENTICE

  — — —

  ENAMOR

  Giles is arrogant and gorgeous and absolutely unavailable. That's fine, as far as Julia's concerned. She wants nothing more than to stay away from him, but being that he lives just down the hall of her small apartment, that proves to be impossible. The two fall into a frenemie relationship that brings both much needed distraction from their real life demons. Soon Julia discovers there's more to her playboy roommate than meets the eye. A lot more. He's guarded for a reason and he's never let anyone in...until now.

  — — —

  ENTANGLE

  Leo Conrad has never once shied away from what he wants. But when he gets the position of his dreams at a top engineering company in San Diego, he knows it's in his best interest to suppress his attraction to his beautiful and standoffish boss. Alexis is an enigma, broken, and impossible to get closed to. Until Leo walks into her company and shows her an attraction so intense it sears the air between them. Alexis does something she's never done before, she allows herself to get entangled in an affair. Will this gorgeous blue-eyed man be able to break down her walls?

  — — —

  ENTICE

  Owen Grant loved her when he was younger. He loved her from afar. Emily never noticed, never looked his way at all. Now, with her life falling apart around her, Emily returns to her hometown to learn little has changed. Except, that is, for the insanely attractive guy staking claim of her safe-haven. She's curious from the beginning and determined to slip past his guard. Owen's influence could be the glue to put her pieces back together. But can Emily quit being enticed by all the wrong things?