Bluest of Blue (#dirtysexygeeks #3)

by Melissa Blue

  Her head popped up above a pillow though she struggled to open her eyes. “Food?”

  “Tacos.”

  Her feet disappeared back under the blanket as she shifted to her side. “Give me a second to get up.”

  Wade picked up his plate and watched her out the corner of his eye. It took her five minutes to move all the pillows and sit up. He was almost done with his food.

  Her hair looked wilder than before, and he wanted to ball his hand in the strands and kiss her. Do so much more than kiss her.

  Maybe she saw the flash of that emotion, because she tugged the cover up to her chin. “You eat in your bed?”

  “I own a washer and dryer. Not a big deal.”

  She yawned. “My food's in the kitchen?”

  He handed her the plate. That shot her eyes open. “Thank you.”

  She ate like she meant it. Though Sophie did put a hand over her mouth when she asked, “Why are you staring at me?”

  “I'm studying you.” He put his empty plate on the nightstand then leaned against the headboard.

  She showed no surprise at his words. “What's your take-away?”

  “You're...interesting.” If she'd heard any of the conversation he had with Victor, she showed no signs of it. Hell, she hadn't even pressed him for details about his mad man confession. Either she knew and didn't feel the need to comment until he did, or she was waiting for him to tell her what he meant.

  He liked her for either choice. “By tomorrow,” he said, “I'll have more adjectives, and maybe I'll figure out what makes you tick.”

  She put her plate down beside her. “What happens tomorrow?”

  Amused, he smiled at her. “You'll remember why you came over in the first place.”

  Sophie laughed. “Definitely didn't plan on sex. I would have done a touch-up shave on my legs.”

  Every part of her had been smooth, soft. His hands itched to touch her again. His dick was more than ready for another taste of her. “I did feel a prickle or two.”

  “You have a death wish, Dr. Addison.”

  He frowned at her. “So we're good until tomorrow?”

  She worried her lip before nodding. “You fed me. The least I could do is give you a day or two to prepare. It's only fair.”

  Cocky. He liked her more. “I don't need preparation.”

  “You will.” She handed him the plate. “'Cause I'm listening now. I know what to do to make you say yes.”

  His cock hardened. Yeah. She could talk him into a lot. He put her leftovers on top of his on the nightstand. But first he really needed to know something. “Your date. What about him?”

  She dropped the cover, and only for a moment did he forget he even asked a question.

  He added, “I don't like sharing.”

  “You know everything about Angelo.”

  “The cliff notes.”

  Sophie straddled his lap, her eyes earnest when she met his gaze. “Do you really think I would cheat on someone?”

  He didn't answer. She sighed. “Cal. My best friend's name is Cal. He stands in as a date for me sometimes when I go to events. He's also my roommate. I've complained about you to him so he knew the score.”

  Roommate. She shifted and so did his attention. Her breasts were beautiful and crushed against his bared chest. “Shitty friend. I dragged you out of a public place to do who knows what.”

  “He's a man. He had an idea of what you wanted to do to me.”

  Wade started to argue, but she kissed his neck. If she kept using her mouth like that he might forget everything but the fact he had a naked woman in his lap. “Are you sure about that, Sophie?”

  The man may have turned a blind eye to Wade's behavior, but if anyone knew about unrequited longing...

  Sophie introduced tongue and on reflex he palmed her ass. She murmured against his skin. “I'm sure he's my friend. I'm sure that's a hard cock I'm sitting on. I am certain you don't want to talk anymore. Neither do I.”

  All true. Though he might be biased, he believed there was nothing more on Sophie's side. Cal though, he might be the problem.

  Wasn't Wade's.

  There was a naked woman on his lap. Nothing else mattered.

  He said, “Then give my mouth something to do.”

  Sophie did.

  *****

  Pink's raspy voice greeted Sophie when she finally made it home many hours later. Cal must have seen her pull up, and because she knew her friend, she had braced herself.

  Cal did not disappoint. He did a Footloose slide across the kitchen floor, gyrating his hips and singing off-key “Walk of Shame.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes though a smile threatened to spread. “How long have you been waiting to play that song for me?” She had to admit his pelvic thrusts were impressive.

  He didn't answer. This was his moment of glory, and he was going to fucking revel in every second of it. She didn't bother to ask how he knew. She'd left hours ago, came back disheveled and fez-less.

  Eventually, he bent to rest his hands on his knees. She gave him time to catch his breath by turning down the music.

  “So long,” he panted. “Not a one-night stand in over ten damn years.”

  Technically she'd come home at night, the affair started mid-afternoon, but details didn't matter. “If you have a cardiac arrest, I'm not calling an ambulance. It's what you get.” She slipped out of her boots. “And I thought you were dating that yoga instructor?”

  “Clearly not long enough.” He straightened. “Hungry?”

  Her mind flashed back to the tacos Wade had prepared. And what they'd done after eating the tacos. “I've had dinner, and I have an early morning tomorrow...”

  Cal shoved his hands into his pockets and locked his gaze on her. She hated the expression that crossed his face—a twist of concern, a furrow of reticence, his lips pinched tight as he tried to keep any words in. He always wore that face right before he gave her the hard truth, usually a deep-seated secret of hers not even Sophie had discovered yet. She wanted her secrets for a little while.

  “Cal, I'm heading to bed. It's been a really long day.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Interesting.”

  “What is?” She kept her voice light but the challenge hung in the air.

  She'd spent the day in Wade's bed—a client's bed. Hadn't even given the potential conflict a hard or torturous thought after making the decision. Sophie needed to process how that was possible. How could a man she'd met less than a month ago change her perspective and shift principles?

  His bluntness.

  His sincerity.

  His humor.

  But something's torturing him.

  Brushing those thoughts aside, Sophie focused on the bigger problem—she still wanted him as a client. And that client had secrets. Secrets that should have worried her. For the first time in a long while, she didn't want to spill all those thoughts and doubts to her best friend until she had a strong handle on them herself.

  “Never mind,” Cal said. No emotion colored his tone. She'd taught him well. “Good night.”

  A bite of guilt tried to settle in. She rolled her shoulders to shift the emotion until later. “See you in the morning. I'll make the coffee. Promise.”

  Silent, he only nodded. Sophie waited to see if this was put to bed for now. He dropped his gaze and scrubbed a hand in his hair.

  See. Wade had their relationship wrong. If Cal harbored hopes they'd be a couple again, he'd fight her on this. He damn sure wouldn't give her advice on her relationship. He'd steer her toward him at every turn. He knew her well enough to seed any doubts.

  Wade was wrong.

  She nodded then made her way up to her room. A shower was needed. Whenever Sophie moved, she could pick up Wade's scent—spicy, musky and masculine. The memory of how and why Wade stained her skin enough to leave behind a visceral imprint punched her in the gut. Until she could be Sophie Lake, publicist, and not Sophie, she wouldn't be able to think straight about the problem she'd mad
e for herself.

  Thirty minutes later, Wade-scent free, Sophie opened her closet door and unlocked the safe. His files were stacked on top. An urgency skated over her pulse as she checked the papers twice then found the throw-away note in his employment record. She strolled back to her bed as she read it.

  A little more than a year ago Wade had taken a month's leave of absence—medical reasons. She'd seen every inch of his body and outside of an infinity tattoo behind his ear, nothing marked his skin. Put that together with Wade's confession, and Victor showing up on his doorstep to only ask if his friend had taken pills that was a sign of—fuck, she didn't know.

  I'm a mad man.

  She threw the note back into the file. Sophie had checked out his medicine cabinet and any other obvious hiding place. She'd found nothing, but at every opportunity he'd taken control, put up a wall between them. It wasn't obvious. He'd put up that wall with sex and other distractions. Even taking I'm a mad man literally, what was his mental health issue?

  What...disorder would Wade hide? With great confidence she could rule out sex. Every time he'd kissed, pinned and licked her, his cock had been at the ready to decimate any lingering thoughts. He'd also backed off whenever she'd shown any sign of discomfort.

  Sophie flipped through the file again, looking at his list of accomplishments, his friends and brother. Nothing.

  The boy genius had turned into a sharp, intelligent man who had once needed a medical leave. He, also, had to take pills.

  “The boy genius,” she whispered as the truth staring right at her became clearer.

  Wade grew up the smartest person in the room, and because of that he was always right, always logical even if that made him a dick. What would happen if his smarts—his brain failed him?

  She flipped back through his employment records, this time paying close attention to reprimands or general notes. The months leading up to his leave said the same thing in various ways—aggressive behavior.

  Sophie didn't know what to make of that. Her freshman year in college she'd put on the clichéd “freshman fifteen.” When her life had crumbled, her bed had more allure than sunlight. But she knew there was a difference between life had kicked her in the teeth so she needed to take a knee for a moment vs. not seeing the meaning of life. Too many of her clients were artists and too many suffered from depression. She couldn't name their blues or even Wade's. She could only point out the one good therapist she knew for help.

  Like she was suffering from OCD, she went through the files with a fine-tooth comb. Another thirty minutes and she still had the same insight—he had friends, he dated regularly and outside of his IQ, Wade appeared fine.

  Her instinct urged to dig deeper until she knew the whole truth—had a name for Wade's madness, but did she need to know for work or because she'd slept with him? Likely the latter. Hell, it's why she hid in her room away from her friend. Putting her budding relationship with Wade under a microscope would reveal...she didn't know.

  What really mattered was whether or not he'd hold up during a full court press run that included plenty of TV spots. Maybe even Late Night News with Trevor Smith. Hell, yes, she still planned to take him on as a client. They'd—she'd made this difficult by giving in to her desire for him. Too stubborn to call the decision a mistake just yet, Sophie, instead, considered the best way to do a tour for him.

  “See, the first step is always a game plan.”

  She reached over to her nightstand for pen and paper to plot out, not only her argument to get Wade to do publicity, but places she needed to contact. Doing that kept her from replaying the naked part of her day. If she didn't think about how easy he'd talked her into light bondage and anal play, she wouldn't daydream about what else she'd let him talk her into.

  Tomorrow—okay, this was Wade. She might need a few days to put together an ironclad plan to clinch Wade as her client, and not just in a technical sense. What they'd done in bed...was done. He'd fight and he fought dirty. She had to be ready and nothing, not even her libido would stand in the way. Her pride wouldn't let it.

  The hard choice after she came up with a plan: stay Wade's lover or just his publicist? She knew better than to try and be both. Lessons learned the hard way were tough to forget.

  CHAPTER

  3(π-.14)

  Monday morning Wade cringed at the email waiting for him before he even had the chance to down his coffee. Dr. Scott wanted to talk to him, pronto, about the PR fiasco i.e. why did Sophie bail? Eventually his actions had to bite him in the ass.

  He'd ripped Sophie a new asshole because she made him...He'd torn into her because she'd gotten too close. Close enough he couldn't see how smart, ruthless she could be and had gotten pissed over it.

  He'd also liked that and had taken her to bed, and would again if she poked her head out of whatever hiding hole she'd found. When she'd left his home they hadn't kissed at the door and made promises to call each other in the morning, but fuck.

  Clearly his previous behavior and her sleeping with a client meant they were on ice. Forever. He'd hope she'd go home and come to the conclusion they should sleep together again and again, but oh fucking well.

  His stomach ached. He ignored the pang as he gathered up his research materials to soften the brunt of the conversation. If he showed Dr. Scott the work he'd managed to do without interruption maybe the man would go easy on him. He walked down to Daniel's office, flew past the flustered secretary and entered without knocking.

  Legs.

  Wade laughed as pleasure and annoyance filled him. Sophie rested her feet on the edge of the desk. The pants suit covered his favorite body parts, but the heels were enough to get memories flooding his brain. But she was here, her scent filling up his boss's office. From her blank expression she'd come to win. Worse, she was likely here to end their sexual relationship in no-uncertain terms right when things had just gotten interesting.

  “Fool me twice...” he muttered, letting his gaze linger over everything about her. The last time he'd seen Sophie, her tight, spiral curls were untamed around her face. She'd corralled them into pin-straight strands tamed into a bun. She'd also looked as soft as her namesake, but she'd showed up today as Ms. Lake—a woman intent on stuffing him into an easily, definable box.

  He hated the change. Fuck, he wanted the woman he could turn into putty with a stroke of his finger, but that was life wasn't it? Never handed you what you wanted. He turned his neck left then right to stretch out the kinks and to be who he needed to be.

  Forcing his voice into a flat tone, he said, “Did you hack into Dr. Scott's email?”

  She picked up a pen from the desk, and reclined the chair. “He signed in for me and left for an early lunch. I may have sent out some emails under the guise of Dr. Scott.”

  She would have told Dr. Scott lunch was on her, and by the time the man had returned everything would be fine. Wade had to respect her cutthroat tactics. If she'd sent him an email, his mind would have been on sex or he'd have braced himself to say no to anything non-sex related. Instead, he'd showed up ready to make some kind of amends for being a dick without reason. Wade didn't have time to prepare an argument for Ms. Lake.

  He dropped the research binders on the desk. After another moment, he forced himself to sit in the chair across from her. He could continue to fight or listen to what she had to say. The stress of a publicity run likely would not adversely effect his mental health. Honestly, it would just annoy him, or at worst, give him a bad case of nerves.

  Wade tilted his head and settled his gaze on hers. She exuded confidence, but the tightness in her smile told him she was nervous. This wasn't only about winning for her.

  With a sigh, he muttered, “Make your pitch.”

  The tip of the pen went between her lips. He knew that mouth. Despite everything they'd tried, he didn't know what those lips felt like wrapped around his dick. That pen had it damn good.

  Her gaze lit. “No foreplay?”

  “I know how much you like i
t,” he said without thought. She flushed, yet her expression remained professional. God, he hated to like her in Ms. Lake mode. Still, he smiled. “But, yes, let's skip that portion of this conversation.”

  “Fine.” She brought her feet down to the floor. “This is all in the planning stages until I get your firm yes.”

  “Go on.”

  “We'll start small until you get comfortable. There's a dedicated STEM program at Manchester High School. I did contact them to find out their schedule, and I may have said you were interested.”

  Fucking, Sophie. “Of course you did.”

  “They were happy to hear about your interest to appear on their podcast. If you did book a slot, they wanted to talk about black holes or dark matter, but I'd leave that up to you.”

  “Who else did you call, and drop my name on?”

  “I put out some feelers to a lot of local places. The library, professional clubs...things like that.”

  Didn't sound too bad to Wade. “And?”

  “After a number of events and when I'm sure you're ready, and won't somehow find a way to ruin my career, I'll pull some favors and get you a slot on Late Night News with Trevor Smith. If that goes well, more. It'll all take a few months at the most. Once a week commitment...excluding prep.”

  A few days alone and she'd planned out the rest of his life. His jaw tightened. The dreaminess of their sex faded into the background. This was why he'd been an ass. She'd boxed him into a corner and reminded him why he didn't talk to his parents. They, too, were all about appearances. But Sophie—could he say she was different?

  Yes. He'd fucked that woman, touched her, coaxed her. He rolled his neck, breathing through his nostrils until he could control the need to fight out of the corner.

  It wasn't a corner, but a contract clause that fucked him when he signed on to work for the observatory. Sophie had gone out of her way to make this easy. The least he could do was grouch instead of snap at her.

  Finally, Wade gestured to himself. He'd worn his usual uniform of board shorts and a T-shirt. “My clothes?”

  She crossed her arms. “We both know you're dressed unprofessionally.”