Randy takes a breath. “Why don’t you and I get out of here?”
We’re business partners now, and I should behave differently. I step back. “What did you have in mind?”
He steps closer again. “I had having you in mind.”
I think of him inside me, and I want it. I want him.
“Where did you want to go?”
“My place.”
I don’t know if I’ll miss him taking me on the cold kitchen counter at the Calypso or not. The thought of rolling with him under the sheets for a change is quite enticing. “Meet me back here in a few. I’m just going to go in and say my good-byes.”
I make a quick pass through the room, telling everyone that I’ve got class tomorrow and it’s already getting late. Sarah, Rita, and Samantha all look at me like they know what’s up. I don’t say anything and just walk out.
When I get outside, it’s beginning to sprinkle. Randy pulls up in his car, gesturing for me to hop in.
My eyes grow wide. “But I drove,” I say. “And besides”—I start heading down the walk toward my car—“we should go to my place.”
He groans. “Come on, let’s just go to mine. You’ve never been there anyway. Don’t you think it’s about time?”
I bend down and make eye contact with him through his open passenger window. “You’ve never been to mine either.”
“Gina, please don’t make this hard, especially when it doesn’t have to be.”
I sigh. I am making this whole situation unnecessarily difficult. “Okay, but I’ll follow you,”
He nods. “Then let me drop you off at your car.”
I get into his car, and he drives me around the block. Just being this close to him is already making me excited. He stops behind my car, and I get out.
As soon as I’m in the driver’s seat, I turn my ignition, and my car won’t start. I click it again and again, and there’s nothing. I look up. Randy is behind me, giving me space to pull out safely onto the main road. The car behind him is flashing its lights and honking. Randy accelerates away and stops in the space in front of my car.
Shit. I slam my hands onto my wheel. Maybe the universe is telling me this is a bad idea. Maybe it’s better we don’t end up fucking anyway. Then my body aches in sadness. Hell, I’ve been working my ass off and deserve it. The sprinkle has turned to more of a drizzle, and I figure I’d better go pop the hood before this turns into a full-on rain.
I get under my hood and start wiggling wires with my face practically in the engine. It’s too dark, and I can hardly see anything.
“Need a hand, partner?” Randy says.
I turn, squinting. He’s flashing the light from his cell phone in one hand and a wrench in the other.
I wiggle the battery cable and let him know that it’s loose.
“I figured there was something going on like that. Let me cinch it,” he says.
It’s difficult to step back and let another person work on my car, but I make myself do it. I stare at his magnificent frame as he leans over my engine and tightens the cable.
“Try to start it,” he says.
I nod, slide behind the wheel, and turn the key in the ignition.
The engine roars to life.
“Thanks,” I say.
He winks. “No, follow me.”
I watch him walk back to his car. I never noticed the confident swagger. Right now, I’m finding him sexy as ever.
We get to his place. It’s a small house about halfway across town. It takes about twenty minutes to get there.
I walk inside of his bachelor’s pad. The décor is contemporary and clean without being overly furnished.
"It’s nice,” I say.
“Would you like something to drink?” he asks while pouring himself a glass of wine.
“Water will be fine.” I look back out the large window at the cute, woodsy neighborhood.
Shortly thereafter, he approaches with a glass of water and with ice.
“Thank you.”
“Cheers,” he says.
I prepare to raise my glass, and he retracts his.
“You know, you don’t have to drink water just because I’m not drinking.”
“Oh.” I continue raising my glass and give him an impish grin. “Thank you.”
Our glasses clank.
“To our partnership,” he says.
I repeat, “To our partnership.”
We look devilishly into one another’s eyes. Randy sets his glass down, walks toward me, and sweeps me off my feet.
I look at the large island countertop in his kitchen. “The kitchen for old times’ sake?”
He laughs and walks me there, setting my bottom on the white quartz. He pries my legs open as he always does. I can feel my juices flow.
“Tonight”—he looks passionately into my eyes—“we’re going to the sheets.”
My body jolts back to his so that I’m again off the ground, my legs hugging his waist like scissors.
We walk through his bedroom door to the edge of his bed. He tosses me through the air onto the sheets.
No sooner than I can blink, Randy is approaching—crawling slowly up the bed. I back up, inching my way onto the headboard.
He stops, still on his knees, and positions his weight over his ankles. I stare, undeniably signaling with my heavy breathing and bedroom eyes I’m ready for whatever comes next.
He takes my left foot somewhat forcefully and jettisons my shoe. His eyes feel like they’re filled with fire in a way I’ve never felt them before.
His tongue glides in and out and around my toes… and yet, he’s still looking squarely at me. I feel like he’s becoming a real animal and I’m morphing into his prey. I keep my knee frozen so it’s unable to retract, even though it tickles, allowing his tongue to spawn other and new sensations as it slides down and into my arch. Oh my God. I tilt my head back—my foot quivering. More aggressively, he takes it with his firm, manly hands and intensifies the work of his tongue. Warm, powerful waves of shock reverberate through my foot, leg, vagina, and into the center of my body.
He lifts my other foot while his mouth is still on the left one, pulls off my shoe, and guides his mouth so that he may pleasure it too. His strong, massaging hands firmly caress both while his moist mouth continues making love to my toes. With each pass of his thumbs up the interior of my feet, my body grows submissively weaker.
I lift my head and look, giving a smile and an innocent laugh. What he’s doing is absurdly sexy, crude, and overwhelming, and it has me spinning like a top.
He grins, pressing both of my feet together now and rubbing them firmly. More of my tension melts. His expression remains determined, and I feel he’s going to take me like never before. I gulp and allow my eyes to roll to the back of my head.
His fingers release their firm, massaging grip, and his hands slide down my thighs until they’re gripping me by my waist and the handles of my hips. He pulls my pelvis so that my rear slides up and into his chest.
His fingers gently slide around my belly, tickling my navel and undoing my button-fly jeans. Each passing second, I allow myself to slide further into his embrace, appreciating the added foreplay that we skipped while making love in the kitchen at work. This is not like anything I’ve experienced before. His power is larger and deeper and is taking me like waves in the ocean. His hands position between my skin and jeans, and he begins pealing back the denim to uncover my skin. My pants slide down my legs and off, first my right, then my left. He takes my ankles and presses my knees firmly toward my chest so that my vagina is exposed.
I’m open and ready. I can feel it, ready for whatever is next. His tongue finds its way under the lip of my panties, tasting me all the way up my crack and into my wet, steaming places. My body jolts as his tongue touches the forbidden. Before long, he tugs my undergarment with his teeth and takes an unabated approach to licking and sucking and licking again every millimeter of my opening and surrounding lips.
I ope
n my legs wide and arch my ass farther into the air. He continues without stopping. I moan, taking the sheets in my grip. He’s pinpointed my clit. Lick after lick. I press myself into his tongue until I erupt over and over again. I try to pull my shaking body away, but he keeps his nose pressed to me and his tongue, unrelenting, to my spot. Finally, I practically roll up the wall, pressing my hands against his forehead.
“Stop,” I practically bark.
He obliges, and my body relaxes—but with caution—back onto the bed. His ocean-blue eyes have never had so much depth. My fingers run through his hair.
“What more do you want?” I say.
At first, nothing comes but his passionate stare. “You, and only you.” He turns my pelvis. My body slides lengthwise deeper into his bed. He stands above me to undress. I’ve never before seen him completely bare, only his chest through his unbuttoned chef coat or his ass and cock when his pants are around his ankles. I’m awestruck by his unobstructed masculine physique. His penis stands, impressively sized, already engorged.
He returns to the sheets and falls between my thighs. I position my waist, lifting my pelvis to the air, exposing more freely my point of entry. My eyes roll to the back of my head as his girth opens me. I moan. Softly, he indulges me much slower than before.
We roll and roll. He takes me on my side from behind, cradled between my thighs.
Throughout the night, his tongue manages to find every inch of my body, and mine finds every inch of his. I orgasm only once more after his oral treatment, but we practically ride each other in a preclimactic bliss for what feels like half the night. When we finish, I’m limp, sweaty, and exhausted.
Our prior bouts of kitchen romance were hot. But if I’m honest with myself, they were just fucks. Tonight, we made love, and never before have I loved like that—not with him and not with anyone.
The silence is thick but golden. Nothing needs to be said. All I desire is to lie here, breathe, and enjoy the feeling of fulfillment. He gave me so much more than I could have imagined. I close my eyes and fall gently asleep.
13
My eyes open. The sheets that I’m lying on smell different—like citrus cologne, sweat, and intoxicating sex. And not just any sweat—Randy’s and mine. Last night’s events rush back to me in a flash. I look around, feeling panicked as if I’m planning to find an empty bottle of wine or booze. I recount last night’s events. I went home with Randy. We made love. I’m in his bed. It’s as simple as that, I tell myself.
Randy’s sleeping with his back to me, practically hugging the corner of the bed. His snores are so loud they could wake a hibernating bear. I plant my palm to my forehead. My postcoital bliss seems to have faded. Slowly, I start inching my way off the bed. I’ve perfected the skill of sneaking out the day after having sex. So why should this be any different? Reality strikes me. This time, it’s a lot different. I’m sitting here with his child in me, and he doesn’t know. That’s a lot different.
I make it to the edge, and Randy makes a weird grunting sound and then stops snoring. I freeze, as if my statue-like pose will keep him from seeing me. A few seconds pass, and he starts sawing logs again, only now not so loudly. I slide my legs off the bed and plant both feet gently on the hardwood floor. I spot my jeans and top, which landed just a few feet away. I tiptoe over and pick them up. Then I swipe my purse off the leather chair.
Where are my shoes?
I turn to look behind me. Randy hasn’t moved. One of my shoes is under the foot of the bed. The other one must not be too far away. I carefully get on all fours and crawl to shoe number one. Once I have it, I get lower to see farther under the bed. There’s my other shoe. I stretch an arm to retrieve it. Suddenly, Randy shifts. I freeze until he starts calling the cows again. I let out a silent sigh. With both shoes in one hand and my dress and purse in the other, I rise to my feet and finish tiptoeing out of Randy’s bedroom. I make it to the front door when it occurs to me that I forgot my panties. There’s no going back now. I slip on my clothes and carefully open the door. My eyes engage with the bright sunlight, and I squint. I take a deep breath and then run down the footpath. I don’t stop until I get into my car and speed off down the tree-lined street.
“Shit, Gina,” I mutter. “Have you lost your mind?”
Sleeping with Randy before revealing that I’m almost two months pregnant with his child is going to make it that much harder to tell him. Not to mention we’re now going to be business partners. I shake my head.
I dig in my purse for my cell phone. My hand rummages through lipstick, wallet, house keys, and loose receipts.
“Fuck!” I pound the steering wheel.
I left it at Randy’s.
14
Randy Cousivan
She’s gone. I swing my feet over the edge of the bed to sit up. I snicker as I rub my eyes, thinking about Gina. It’s just like her to sneak out without saying good-bye. She’s always been hard to pin down. At least she could’ve shaken me awake to give me a kiss or talk business for five minutes. I’m still in the dark here. Not to mention fifty thousand short.
Suddenly, there’s a chime that sounds like rumba music. I look around my room. My phone is sitting quietly on the top of the dresser. I stand and walk over to the other side of the bed. Half of a cell phone in a red case is poking out from under the bed. I pick it up and open it. The caller’s name is Nom. That’s what Gina calls her friend Naomi. I know her. I consider letting it go to voice mail, but I know how close the two are. Naomi might see Gina sometime today, and maybe she could let her know her phone is here.
I tap the answer button. “Hello, Naomi?”
“Um, yes, who is this?”
I tell her it’s me and that Gina left her phone at my house.
“At your house?” She sounds surprised—very surprised.
“She was here last night.”
“Oh.”
The line falls silent.
“I hope she realizes that she doesn’t have it, but if you see her before then, could you let her know it’s here?”
“I will, but…”
I wait for her to finish, but she says nothing. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I really need to talk to her now. She’s, um, I’m um, representing her in a deal.”
It finally dawns on me that Naomi is practicing law these days. I overheard them talking about it a while back. “Are you representing her in the purchase of the Calypso?”
“Yes! She told you?”
I crack a smile. “Yeah. We decided to actually do it together.”
“Oh?” She sounds extremely surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I kind of… okay,” she says as if she’s coming to grips with what I’ve revealed. “I mean, you two bicker an awful lot. Are you sure?”
I twist my jaw. I’ve been wondering in the back of my mind why I’d offer to go into business with Gina. What the hell was I thinking? She’s contentious as hell. If I say east, she’ll say west. If I go left, she’ll go right. Sometimes I can’t see why in the hell I’m so attracted to her. Of course, she’s hot. But hot’s not just it. No, she’s more than hot. She’s beautiful. She’s smart, too, and can think fast on her feet. God, does that turn me on. I can usually make a face and give my voice an intimidating tone, and people will dance to my tune, but not Gina. I can go to hell for all she’s concerned. That makes me want to take her until I can’t get enough of her, and so far, that hasn’t happened. It seems I can never get enough of her. When she told me that she bought the Calypso and planned to remodel and reopen it, I got excited. After I was declared the winner of the competition, my agent, Dana Simpson, suggested that I work fast to find somewhere to make great food because people are going to flock to whatever restaurant I choose to work in. The winner only receives a hundred thousand dollars, which is not much to start a restaurant, especially in LA or New York. And I battered my reputation so much that no one’s going to want to invest in me until I’ve had a lot
more time to prove I’m no longer the drunken, belligerent, and egotistical prick I used to be.
My decision to jump into business with Gina was twofold. First, I wanted to be closer to her. Second, being part owner of the Calypso Café sounds like a great opportunity to vindicate myself. As winner of the show and someone with extraordinary expertise, I could make Gina and me successful.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” I say, finally answering Naomi’s question.
She exhales long as though she is resigning herself to our decision. “Well, if that’s the case, then I’ll need some information from you along with half of your payment wired to an account before the end of the day. Is that something you’re able to do?”
“Sure.” I’ve already thought about the money. I need forty more to make it an even split. My cousin Jeremy has it. I’ll ask him for a loan.
I scratch the back of my neck even though it doesn’t itch. The doorbell rings, and I have a feeling I know who it is. “Can you give me a second?”
“Yes,” Naomi says.
I go to the front door and open it. “Gina’s right here,” I say.
All of a sudden, Gina’s vulnerably wide eyes narrow to slits. “Is that my phone?”
I hand it to her. “It’s Naomi.”
She snatches it out of my hand. I look at her. I want to make her give it back and ask for it nicely, without disrespect.
“Naomi,” she says, hugging the phone to her ear.
For a second, I feel like slamming the door on her and telling her to take her deal and shove it up her sexy ass, but I know that won’t do me any good.
Gina says, “Uh-huh” repeatedly and nods. She scowls at me when she says, “Yes, we are.” Then she rolls her eyes. “I understand.” She turns away from me and whispers, “You’re the one who suggested someone who knows the business.”
Gina glances at me. I grin, knowing that she really didn’t want me to hear that.
After a moment, she says, “We’ll be there.” She nods as she listens. “Got it.” Pause. “Got it. I’ll tell him. Text me the account information, and I’ll send it to him.” Pause. “Perfect. See you there.”
Her Perfect Man- The Complete Series Box Set Page 56
