by Tara Wylde
“You do.”
“Which is why I’ve decided that the best thing I can do for myself is take off.” I stand up and toss enough cash on the table to cover my share of dinner, throwing in a little extra as a tip for the waiter. “Things aren’t going to work out between us, so it’s better to make a clean break now. Don’t you agree?”
Dan blinks at the small pile of bills on the table. “You’re breaking up with me? Again?”
Oh boy. And he thought me talking about my bra had been embarrassing! A public dumping is much more humiliating, especially since this is the exact type of place that doctors frequent. Even if none of Dan’s direct associates are in here, word will get to them.
I shake my head and do my best to ignore the pulsating heat that’s assaulting my pussy. The only comfort I’m going to be getting tonight is going to be given by the seldom used vibrator that lives inside my nightstand.
“More like I’m confirming that showing you the door the other night was the right decision,” I explain.
“But why?”
If I was a meaner person, I’d let the whole place hear what I have to say, but despite the misogynistic way he’s treated me tonight, I decide to be the better person.
I step beside his chair and lean close. “The other night it was because you failed to excite me while we were in bed together.” No point in telling him that I’m pretty sure that the problem is actually me, especially since the damn oil is effectively proving that I’m not nearly as difficult to turn on as I previously assumed. “I’d planned on giving you a second chance, seeing if we fit together better now that we’ve felt our way around each other’s bodies, but you’ve revealed some aspects of your personality that don’t appeal to me.”
I don’t wait around for him to respond. I simply spin on my heel and walk out of the restaurant with my head held high and a burning, unfilled sensation between my legs.
Chapter Sixteen
Erin
I park my little car in my designated parking lot and slump against the seat. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been more grateful to get home and call an official end to the day.
I can’t wait to take myself and the Chinese food I food I picked up on the way home upstairs, and crash on my comfy couch, where I plan on binge watching Law and Order reruns.
The delightful heat and tingling created by the oil I’d put on at the restaurant faded while I was driving. Since it’s been the most stimulating thing my body has ever encountered, I’m going to have to order an entire bottle of the stuff from Donna at The Sex Project.
I feel the tension draining from my body as I let myself out of the car and walk toward the lobby door.
“Hey, Ms. Burkley.” Chris, the Dovetail building’s nighttime doorman, greets me almost as soon as I step into the lobby.
“Hi, Chris,” I respond. I hook the plastic bag that contains the Chinese takeout around my wrist and look at the thick book that’s open before him. “What are you studying tonight?” The nice thing about working as a night doorman is that it gives Chris plenty of time to study. If all goes according to his plan, by this time next year, he’ll be a fully-fledged EMT.
He looks down at the text book and grimaces. “It’s for my pharmacology and medication admin class. It’s hard stuff.”
“You’ll get through it,” I assure him.
“Maybe,” he says glumly. Apparently, I’m not the only one having a bad night.
“Good luck,” I say before walking to the elevator bank and pressing the call button. While I wait, I dig my cell phone out of my purse. I’ve gotten five different texts. One of them is from Mister No O. My stomach tightens. I’ve been thinking about him all day. Even when I was dining with Dan, I had to resist the temptation to look at my phone to see if he was trying to get ahold of me.
That’s the one I open.
How’s it going?
Oh boy! He’s going to love this particular story.
The elevator door slides open and I step in, not bothering to look up from my phone until the heavy stainless-steel doors whisper closed behind me, and a strange prickling sensation, the one that serves as an early warning system that a guy is checking me out, sweeps over me.
Startled, I glance up and nearly drop my phone. I nearly give myself whiplash as I snap my head around in a desperate attempt to look anywhere but at my fellow passenger.
Garret Holden.
I haven’t seen him since I crashed into him in the lobby a few days ago.
One glimpse and my brain short circuits.
My knees wobble and my skin heats up and shrinks a size or two. Images of wrapping my legs around his narrow waist while demanding he fuck me long and hard flash before my eyes.
I’ve never, ever been trapped in a small confined space with him before. I’m probably shooting off all sorts of pheromones, like some alley cat that’s in heat. Whether it’s the close proximity to Garret or the remnants of the damned lubricating oil, my girly bits start pulsating and begging for attention.
Please, I silently beg whatever deity might be listening, let someone else get into the elevator soon. In just the second or two I’ve been stuck in the small, confined space with him, my temperature has shot up. Much longer and I’d spontaneously combust or do something even more humiliating. My body reacts more strongly to his mere presence than it’s ever responded to the men I’ve actually slept with.
My stomach tightens as I slide a sly glance in his direction. He is watching me, but his expression is placid rather than interested. Clearly my womanly Spidey senses aren’t as sharp as I thought. Maybe my stupid sex coach has me so revved up that the presence of any red-blooded man is enough to turn me on.
That could make generally mundane things, like walking down the street, interesting.
Garret raises a brow and nods his head toward the control panel.
I take a deep steadying breath. “Um … the fifteenth floor.”
Garret nods and punches the large round number.
I chew on my lower lip and pretend not to notice how his shirt strains over the breadth of his shoulders or how the cotton clings to his well-defined pecs. While my girlfriends go on and on about tight asses and pretty eyes, I’ve always been a sucker for a well-defined torso.
I should say something, make some sort of small talk, but since Garrett seems to be in an even more solid silent mode than normal, I decide I’d just be wasting my breath. I tip my head back and stare at the sign hanging above the closed doors, watching the numbers fly by.
My stomach drops as the elevator jerks to a stop at the fifth floor. The doors slide open with a soft hum. A middle-aged guy with tired eyes nods at me as he and a small brunette who looks about seven years old step into the elevator. The little girl grips one end of a hot pink leash. The other end is connected to a half-grown chocolate lap puppy.
The dog glances my way before turning to Garret and burying his curious nose into his crotch.
I bite my lip, suppressing my instinctive smile as Garret hunches forward. He reaches down with one hand, gently pushing the puppy’s head away from his person as the little girl digs in her heels and tugs on the leash, desperately trying to stop the dog, who probably outweighs her, back to her side.
The older man heaves a huge sigh and reaches for the dog’s collar. “Claire, I told you, you can only lead Kirby on his walk outside if you can control of him.”
The girl’s lower lip pokes out and her expression is so sad, my heart bleeds for her. “But Daddy,” she starts, her voice developing a distinctly wailing quality.
I brace myself. I like kids well enough, I guess, but I find their crying distressing, especially when I’m stuck in a small space, and this has all the earmarks of a full-blown temper tantrum.
Garret’s teeth flash white as he gifts the little girl and her father a rare smile. Liquid heat floods my belly before running lower. I place a hand on the wall beside me, steadying myself. Why can’t I react this way to any of the guys I date,
guys that should suit me down to a T?
“It’s okay,” he says to the little girl, the sound of his voice sending a chill through me that cancels out the heat his smile triggered. “Puppies tend to have a mind of their own, don’t they?”
Claire grins back at him and babbles some answer. Her father’s voice joins in, but I can’t make out the words over the blood pounding in my ears. I stare at Garret. The sound of his voice echoes in my brain. The same voice that has kept me up for the past several nights. The same voice that has whispered one carnal sin after another in my ear until I can’t think straight.
I knew it sounded familiar, but I never imagined that it belonged to someone in my apartment building, much less to the same person I was attracted to since I first saw him, a guy that couldn’t be less suited to me.
The elevator bumps to a stop again, and the doors slide open. The two adult men turn and stare at me, waiting for me to get out.
Heart pounding, I do, but just as the doors start closing behind me, I spin and slap a hand over them, stopping them in their tracks.
My eyes meet Garret’s.
“You,” I hear myself say even though I don’t have any plan, any idea, about what I’m going to do. I point to the hallway and glare at him. “Here. Now.”
Chapter Seventeen
Erin
Garret Holden and my sex coach are the same person!
The words race around my brain, chasing away everything else as I try to come to terms with this new discovery.
No wonder the voice in my ear always sounded familiar but I couldn’t place it. I’ve only spoken to Garret a handful of times and his part of the conversation generally consisted of one, maybe two words. Not enough to actually form a solid connection with his voice, but enough of one for my brain to know that it’s heard it before.
Still, I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out.
Emotions I can’t even begin to unravel swirl through me in a confusing and complicated vortex.
Tension pounds against my skull.
Some of the romance novels I devour by the case load have pretty ridiculous plots, but I can’t think of a single one where the heroine gets sex advice from the man she’s crushing on.
The elevator doors slide closed, leaving Garret and me alone on the landing. He studies me, his expression calm, his eyes curious.
Clearly, he has no intention of making the first move. He’s leaving that up to me.
“I know who you are.” The steadiness of my voice surprises me, considering how shaky I feel.
Garret nods and glances down the hallway. “I’m perfectly happy to have this conversation right here, but since you have more to lose than I do, I think you may want to move this somewhere more private.”
He’s right. I don’t want to give him time to concoct some bullshit story, but the last thing I need is for my neighbors to hear that I’m having issues in the bedroom. God only knows how far and how fast that kind of news will spread.
“Fine.” I spin on my heel and make my way down the hall to my apartment, which is the furthest door. “Follow me.”
Garret doesn’t follow me, but rather walks right beside me. We’re close, so close that he wouldn’t think it strange if I happened to bump into him, something my body seems to think would be a very good idea.
Cool it, girl, I silently tell myself. Another complication in your love life is the last thing you need right now.
I sneak a sideways glance at Garret. With the tats that cover his arms and creep up the side of his neck, the too-long hair, and the heavily pierced earlobes, he looks like exactly the kind of guy my mom used to tell me to avoid. She’d take one look at him and claim that he’s a bad boy, someone who’ll introduce nothing but heartache and trouble into my life. Someone I should avoid at all costs. The type of person who should scare the hell out of me.
And while I’ll freely admit that I normally prefer clean-cut, non-inked men with a professional sheen, I’m not convinced that Garret is as bad as he seems. The few times we’ve interacted, he’s been the perfect gentleman. In fact, he’s been nicer and kinder than half the men I’ve dated.
And now there’s this whole No O thing. Sure, finding out I actually know my sex mentor is something I’m still having a difficult time wrapping my brain around, but on some level, isn’t knowing who it is, knowing we share some sort of connection a good thing?
And isn’t a connection, as well as a halfway decent orgasm, the one thing I’ve craved my whole life?
I stop in front of my apartment door and dig my key out of my purse while the different aspects of my personality argue with one another.
I slip the key into the lock, undoing the deadbolt.
Through the door, I hear a faint, excited whine. Harlan.
I turn to face Garret, lifting my gaze until it collides with his. “Um, before you go in, you should know that I have a dog, a big one, so if that’s a problem for you, you’ll have to wait out here until I shut him in another room.”
Garret shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and holds my gaze. “I like dogs.”
“Oh, good.” I should turn around and open the door, but I don’t. It’s like his gaze is holding me in thrall.
Without any conscious effort on my part, my left hand rises. My fingertips brush his warm wrist before my hand runs up his arm, tracing his biceps as he stares down at me.
Acting on instinct, I lean close, rising up on my tiptoes until my lips are just a whisper from his. Garret’s eyes continue to look deeply into mine as his warm breath washes over my face.
I don’t know how long we stand like that, toe to toe, nearly lip to lip. I don’t know who makes the first move, but one second, we’re two separate people and the next, our lips are sealed together.
His lips are every bit as warm and firm as I’ve always imagined they’d be. They move over mine with expert ease, sucking, nipping, teasing mine into parting. My arms slide up, wrapping around the back of his neck as I press the entire length of my body against his.
The hardness of his cock presses against my belly as his tongue grazes against mine, sending shockwaves rippling through me.
I feel his hands gliding over my hips until his arms band around my waist, pulling me closer still.
Feeling lightheaded and giddy, I match his tongue strokes with a few moves of my own, delighting in his groan of pleasure, something I’ve never made a man do before.
I could happily spend the rest of my life right here in this hallway with my lips attached to Garret’s.
I can’t hold back my moan of disappoint when he eventually lifts his head, breaking the kiss. He keeps one arm securely looped around my waist, continuing to hold me close as he lifts the other, using it to brush my hair back behind my ear.
“Erin, I—”
“Shit!” I yell before he has a chance to finish his thought.
I jerk backwards, breaking free of his hold and putting as much space between us as I can before my back comes up hard against my apartment door.
Confusion clouds his expression. His brows draw together. “What’s wrong?”
I barely hear the question. Blood pounds in my ears as I stare at the gold band wrapped around the third finger of his left hand. I’ve made some pretty big mistakes in my life, but this is the first time I’ve ever thrown myself at a married man. Not even accidently.
And there’s no saying that I didn’t know he’s married. That’s been one of the reasons I’ve never approached him, never tried to figure out if he was as interested in me as I am in him.
Even though I’ve never seen his wife, every time our paths cross, he’s wearing his ring. How the hell could I forget something so big?
My stomach rolls and pitches as I struggle to come to terms with what I’ve just done.
“Oh God.” Reaching behind me, I grope for the doorknob. “I completely forgot that you’re married. I’m so sorry. I just … I don’t know what came over me. I promise it won’t hap
pen again.”
Chapter Eighteen
Garret
“Erin.” I keep my voice calm in direct reaction to the hysteria in hers. “Let’s go into the apartment where we won’t have to worry about anyone overhearing us. There’s a few things we have to discuss.”
Erin, still looking like she’s committed the crime of the century, nods and pushes the door open.
My mind spins as I trail behind her into the apartment.
There’s only one reason that Erin would be back here, alone, this early in the night. Her date must not have gone well.
And the only reason she insisted I follow her out of the elevator is because she worked out that I’m the man behind the curtain. The only question I had as I followed her down the hallway toward her apartment was what she was going to do about it.
The last reaction I expected from her was a kiss so powerful that I not only felt the earth move beneath my feet, but was so desperate for it to continue, that I nearly got down on my knees, ready to promise her anything, absolutely anything, if she’d let me kiss her a second time.
Looking shell shocked, Erin pushes her door open and steps into her darkened apartment, where a large, hairy dog bounces happily on his forefeet as he waits to greet her.
I follow.
I can’t help appreciating the view. The black dress she’s wearing does a wonderful job accenting her best features. The way her hips gently sway to and fro before me, and the knowledge of what she is, and isn’t, wearing under that tight skirt, is all the temptation my cock needs to swell to the point that it presses painfully against the front of my jeans. If I don’t calm down soon, I’m going to start walking with a limp.
Erin pushes the door closed and manipulates the deadbolt while I stare down at her dog. He doesn’t bark or jump on me. Instead he sits down, his big tail sweeping back and forth across the floor, and returns my stare.
