Make Me Lose

by Leigh, Ember

  “Let’s do weekends,” I say quickly. “We’ll stick with that for a while. You can fly out next weekend, even. I’ll pay. We won’t be apart for long.”

  She’s nibbling on her lip now. I can tell she’s considering it. And holy hell, if this is the only in I’ve got, I’ll run with it.

  “We can do it long-distance until you decide,” I go on. “Just…please, babe. Give me something. I can’t leave knowing that I’m not gonna see you again.”

  That must get her, because she slumps a little. Her gaze flickers my way, and there are all sorts of emotions there. She’s pouting too.

  “I don’t want to not see you again,” she admits in a small voice. And it breaks my heart.

  “Then let’s do weekends,” I urge, coming up to her desk. My skin itches with wanting to touch her. Next Friday can’t get here soon enough, and she’s still within arm’s reach. “Please, Hazel.”

  A sigh erupts from her, and her eyes drift shut.

  And then she nods.

  The most reluctant agreement ever, but I’ll take it.

  I go behind her desk and wrap her in my arms, pulling her from the chair. Her arms shoot around my neck and I find my favorite sweet spot buried between her collarbone and her neck. I hug her like we’re saying goodbye for five years instead of five days.

  “I’ll need to cancel an appointment on Saturday,” she murmurs.

  “Do it. And hire an assistant while you’re at it, okay?”

  She laughs a little. “Fine. It’s time, I guess.”

  “Overdue.” I pull back and look at her, drinking in her sharp features. I’ve never felt so simultaneously thrilled and sad at the same time. Overjoyed that she’s agreed to give this a chance. Crushed that I need to physically exist without her at my side for the next five days.

  “I love you, Hazel,” I whisper, and then I dive in for a kiss. The intensity sends her back onto her desk. A few papers flutter to the ground. I cup her face in my hands and I kiss her over and over again, until my lips go numb and half her lipstick is on my mouth.

  She laughs when we break apart, swiping her thumb over my lips. “Love this shade on you.”

  “Looks better on you.” I grip the edges of her desk, fighting the urge to christen her office. But it’s the middle of the day, and we’re in full view through her wall of windows. A few people outside have already stopped to stare.

  “You better leave, Grayson Daly,” she says, smoothing her hands over the front of my shirt. “Or we’re gonna get arrested for fucking in public.”

  “We’ll save it for Brooklyn. Rooftop. View of the Statue of Liberty.”

  She smiles, patting my chest. “Deal.”

  I rip myself off her, start to walk away, then snag one more kiss. I’m about to push out of her office when she calls out my name.

  “I love you too,” she says, the look on her face so vulnerable that I pause to watch her. I don’t want to forget this moment. The morning she gave us a real chance.

  It means something. It doesn’t just give me hope, because I’ve had that tucked away all along. It confirms my suspicion.

  I’ve been really in love with her for longer than I can even remember. So that makes her my soul mate.

  And I’m not letting this fail.

  Chapter 25

  GRAYSON

  My return to work is the equivalent of a horror movie. I ensured my redundancy while I was on vacation, but on Tuesday morning I show up to a shit show. I work fourteen-hour days Tuesday through Thursday to feel even slightly caught up. Hazel’s selfies and my favorite lox bagels from around the corner at work sustain me. I don’t care what anyone says. Nobody does bagels better than New York, and I will fight a man who tries to convince me otherwise.

  HAZEL: I will see you in HOURS.

  I smile down at my phone, but it doesn’t last long. I’ve been holed up in my office at work so long over the past three days that it’s erased every ounce of relaxation and goodwill I’d managed to cobble together on my vacation. I didn’t need four weeks off—I needed a fucking sabbatical.

  I’m leaving the office early today—by eight-thirty—because Hazel’s landing at nine-thirty, and they can fucking fire me if they have to. I’m not postponing our reunion even a second longer than I have to.

  The only good thing about being insanely busy? Days melt away from under me, like a carnival ride I was pretty sure I wanted to get on but now I’m having second thoughts about. Though it’s a blessing for getting through the work slog, it’s also pretty depressing. If I spend ninety percent of my life in this office, doing the same activity over and over again? Before I know it, I’ll be thirty. And then I’ll be forty. And what the actual fuck will I have done over the past twenty years of my career besides sit in an office, move wealth for richer people, and collect paychecks?

  So yeah, coming back to work has been difficult.

  But time grinds on regardless, and I manage to leave the office by 8:45, which means I show up at the arrivals door at the exact second Hazel glides out onto the sidewalk, her shiny purple luggage rolling behind her.

  Butterflies take over my stomach in a coup. The organ is theirs now. I park and get out of the car on wobbly legs. She’s beaming at me like she’s never been so happy to see me. Like I’m the only one she wants.

  Like we’re really something and this is it for the both of us.

  She’s in my arms before I even realize I’ve walked her way, and I’m so relieved I could crumble. And this is after five days apart, people. I put her luggage in my trunk, and we both climb into the car. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart, as I ease into the traffic heading away from JFK Airport.

  “How was your flight?”

  “Perfect.” She smiles, looking out the window. “And now I’m in NYC.”

  She sounds way more excited to be here than I planned for, which already feels like a major win. My plan is unfolding exactly as I imagined—lure her here, make her fall in love, and then help put together the puzzle for her life in New York.

  “I can’t believe you never made it out here before now.” I cluck my tongue as we pull onto the log-jammed freeway. Normally, I’d be sighing and tense. But today? Hazel’s here, so all the annoyances in the world could occur at once, and I wouldn’t give a damn.

  “Guess I was waiting for the right thing to bring me here.” She sends a bright smile my way. “And now I’m on vacation.”

  “For two whole days.” I laugh a little, then sigh. “I’ve been back at work for four days, and I’m already jealous of your time off.”

  “Don’t you have this weekend off?”

  “Well yeah, but…” I trail off, shaking my head. We’re going five miles per hour. This is why they need self-driving cars already. We could be fucking in the backseat by now if I only had a robot to navigate us back to Dumbo. “I’m never fully off. I guarantee I’ll get at least one emergency call tomorrow and another on Sunday night.”

  “As long as you don’t have to leave me for a single second,” she says, reaching over to squeeze my knee. “That’s all I ask.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” I smile over at her, and her hand trails up my knee and along my thigh. Soon she’s stroking the zipper of my work slacks, and my cock pricks to attention. “You don’t waste any time.”

  “These last four days have been hell,” she moans, drawing lazy patterns over the crotch of my pants. Her grazing touch stiffens my cock until the bulge is noticeable. I wet my bottom lip, glancing down at her hand between my legs as we creep forward. The sight of her slender fingers and perfectly done red nails stroking my growing bulge makes me even harder.

  “Can I?” she whines a moment later, turning toward me. She’s fiddling with my belt and has it halfway undone before I can even answer.

  “In traffic?” I ask, but it’s only a facade of propriety. She could suck my dick in the middle of Central Park if she wanted.

  “Yes! We’re in the big city, we’ll never see th
ese people again. Besides, it’s almost dark out.” Her eyes glint with mischief, which sweeps me away. This, among so many other reasons, is why I love this woman. Because on her first outing to New York she wants to suck me off in traffic. Because she’s willing to take a chance on this. Because she’s the most successful person I’ve ever met and still wants to climb higher. I could list the reasons for a full week and still have more.

  “I’m not gonna say no to that,” I say, laughing as she unzips my pants carefully around the straining bulge. Her cool hand finds my cock through the fold in my boxer briefs, and suddenly my dick’s out in the growing dusk of Friday night traffic. Just another passenger in the car.

  “Mmmm.” She fists my cock a few times, and I jerk beneath her, white-knuckling the steering wheel. It’s hard to keep my focus on the road. I suck at my teeth as she drags her fingernail around the head of my cock. “They didn’t serve me any snacks on the plane, so I’m gonna need to eat your cock now, okay?”

  All I can do is laugh as her head dips, and then there’s the slippery heat of her mouth, consuming the length of my cock. I grunt, smoothing my palm over the silk of her hair as she draws up and down a few times. My thighs go tense under the slurping attention. Hazel’s the fucking best.

  “Mrrgghhh,” she mumbles from around my cock, and I can’t even find the words to ask what she was trying to say. I slam on the brakes a little too hard after I creep forward again. Her tongue found the sensitive slit, and I’m about done for.

  “Jesus, Hazel,” I breathe. My dick is iron in her mouth, and she snakes a hand into my pants to squeeze my balls. I groan, pressing my head to the seat. The traffic is a blur in front of me. This probably wasn’t the safest idea, but too late. I’m panting like a dog as she takes another pull at my cock. She comes off with a pop.

  “So tasty,” she murmurs, then dives back down again.

  As a rule, I make no eye contact with drivers around me on a normal day, but today I definitely don’t want to scan the highway and see who might be enjoying the peep show. It’s almost dark outside, so there’s that, at least. But I won’t make it to full nighttime. Not with these plump lips pulling me over the edge.

  She swallows my cock again, and then she wraps a hand around the shaft as her lips slip over and around my cockhead. My stomach goes rock-hard, and I fight the urge to buck my hips. Even my toes are curling, awaiting this orgasm. I’m so fucking close.

  “Hazel,” I grunt, fisting the back of her pretty hairdo. She slurps and groans and then the bliss spills over, heat filling me from head to toe. I make sure I stomp on the brakes as my eyes pinch shut and the orgasm wracks my body.

  She’s purring like a kitten, swiping her tongue around the corners of her mouth. She took it all and didn’t even bat an eye. I struggle to regulate my breathing.

  “Traffic moved,” she says calmly, and then tucks me back into my pants. I grip the steering wheel and ease forward, taking another deep breath.

  “Is that the snack you were looking for?” I tease, swiping my knuckles against the side of her face. I reach over to adjust some of her hair I tugged loose. She lowers the visor mirror and fixes her hair.

  “Exactly what I needed,” she says with a devilish grin. “Until our main course later, that is.”

  * * *

  How could we do anything other than fuck the second we set foot in my apartment? I originally had the silly idea of giving her the grand tour and starting with wine on the rooftop, but no. The second we enter my fifth-floor apartment, I have her pressed against the wall and half undressed. We’re kissing like the first time at my house in Bayshore all over again. Like we still have so much to make up for.

  Once her skirt is off and her heels have tumbled to the floor, I hoist her against my door. Her breath hitches, the tops of her breasts spilling out from the black satin bra. She is a living fantasy. Soft curves and elegance, whip smart and witty, but still the same sun-freckled Hazel I’ve been racing bikes with since childhood. Except now our races have led to here—the apartment she’ll be calling home soon enough.

  “Please, Gray,” she murmurs into my ear, digging her nails into the ridge of my shoulder. “I need it.”

  I need it too. More than I can even fucking understand. While she’s pinned to the door, I tug aside the damp scrap of fabric covering her pussy and settle between her thighs. My cockhead slips over her folds, and she moans, head hitting the door.

  “Graaay,” she groans, desperation edging her voice.

  I plunge inside of her, faster than I meant to. But it’s so damn difficult to take it slow with her. I want her hard and fast and always. I sink into her glorious, velvety heat, the breath hissing out of me. She wails and arches. It feels too good. It feels too right.

  Our bodies slap together, the metronome of our passion. I squeeze the mounds of her ass in my palms, burying myself inside her. We haven’t even been inside the apartment five minutes, and already I know she is the missing piece to my puzzle. The final aspect to really make this place home.

  Not just my apartment, but New York. Hazel is what I’ve been missing all along.

  “Fuck, Hazel.” I draw out and then drive back in. Back to the best feeling in the world. Buried to the hilt in the woman of my dreams. “I love you so much, you know that?”

  A lazy smile crosses her face, and her chest heaves. “I love you more.”

  I grunt, prickles of pleasure pooling low in my gut. I’m close. Even after I came an hour ago in the car, I’m ready again. With the silk of her pussy wrapped around me, I can’t hold on for much longer. Not when she’s saying I love you more. Not when she’s here in my apartment, in New York City. Giving us a chance.

  To the soundtrack of slick flesh and ragged moans, my own orgasm comes barreling forward. I jolt forward, making one last attempt to fuse our bodies together. I come long and hot inside her, buried deep, the most perfect punctuation mark to this day.

  Hazel is Jell-O in my arms. She’s pure liquid and laughter, and when I lower her to the ground, she can’t stand up on the first try.

  “That one…” She looks at me with sex-clouded eyes. “That one got me good.”

  I grin and push a kiss against her lips. “That was the welcome committee,” I tease, running my lips over the shell of her ear. “Wait until we start the actual tour of the apartment.”

  In this moment, I realize that I’ve never been happier in NYC.

  Now I just need to make sure Hazel stays.

  Chapter 26

  HAZEL

  I’m back in Brooklyn, for the second time in a month. It’s three weeks after Gray’s vacation in Bayshore ended, and two weeks since my last visit.

  I’m gazing out the floor-to-ceiling window of Grayson’s living room. This would be my everyday view. Cobblestone streets stretch away from me, and the converted warehouses in the distance lend damn near everything a hipster vibe. I love his neighborhood. I love New York. I love taking taxis—legitimate yellow taxis. Even though his apartment is one of those swanky, personality-less places he claimed to be tired of, it has potential.

  But none of that really matters. Because no matter how often or vividly I envision my life here, it doesn’t quite click into place.

  I should give it more time. Except the only way I can keep coming back here is to treat it like a vacation. Like Grayson’s place is the sweet home share I found online and all the places we visit are entries for the travel scrapbook.

  It’s the second visit, but the quiet truth whispers through my bones. Living here isn’t for me. There’s no yard. There are no birds in the morning. The rumble of the bridge nearby is a deal-breaker alone. Not to mention the other hundred things that would annoy me after the first month here.

  Probably worst of all is Grayson’s schedule. We’re both career oriented, but the man barely gets out of work before nine most nights. I’m guilty of the same on occasion, but on this particular Friday, he had a rideshare meet me at the airport instead of him, because he “got cau
ght up at the office.”

  I believe him. The man is a work machine.

  But it’s only setting the tone for what life here would be like.

  I’d be mostly on my own. Creating my business from scratch. And irritated by street noise.

  Great.

  A text arrives as I’m contemplating the street below.

  CALLIE: Hey girl what’s up tonight?

  HAZEL: Nothing much. I’m out of town.

  CALLIE: Where ru??

  HAZEL: NYC.

  CALLIE: Hold up. This is the second time! Are you moving there or what?

  I toss the phone on the couch behind me. I don’t know how to answer that question. Or rather, I have two separate answers. What I’d tell Grayson, and what I’ll admit to myself.

  And they sound like “I don’t know yet,” and “Hell no.”

  Truth is, my intuition knew after the first visit, but here I am again, testing my resolve. Grayson makes it hard to say no. Because if I say no, I’ll lose him. And if I lose him, I don’t know what comes next.

  So it seems wiser to exist in this new, modern version of a stalemate. Where we’re living in a stasis until…something.

  HAZEL: Just visiting Gray.

  That’s all I can say. Because it feels traitorous to shoot down his idea to anyone else first, even though the deepest, most secret parts of my heart know the truth.

  Last time I was here, Gray took me to meet with one of his real estate friends in the rare moment we actually broke from sex and left the apartment. We grabbed an expensive lunch under the Brooklyn bridge, and over chardonnay and salmon pate we dug into the nitty-gritty about what I could expect moving here and starting over.

  In a nutshell? Even more hard work, lots of time, and a metric shit ton of investment money.