by Jess Bentley
At the police station, they book Ronnie for breaking and entering, false imprisonment, and assault. Maxwell sits next to me as I give my statement, his hands covering mine so I don’t tremble too obviously. Instead of pulling away, I let him do it. It gives me strength, makes me able to think about it.
“You know, I think I lied to him,” I admit tentatively. “I told him we could handle it legally. He could sign a form or something? I don’t even think that’s true…”
The officer sets down his pen and shrugs, scratching his forehead so that it nudges his hat brim up and down.
“Don’t worry about whatever you told him. The state will make sure he doesn’t come to collect. And you said what you needed to say to get out of the situation. That’s the most important thing, Miss Goring.”
Maxwell pulls me closer and buries his face in my hair. “That’s absolutely the most important thing,” he murmurs in my ear.
Finally the officer sighs, stretching and standing. He shifts his heavy belt with all of the leather compartments and keys on it to hike his pants up.
“That’s all we need from you today,” he informs me. “You may have to testify at some point down the road, but we will handle it from here. You are free to go.”
“Thank you, officer,” I mumble.
Maxwell helps me to standing, and guides me out of the police station. Back in the night air, I realize how completely exhausted I am. I can barely walk, but he’s there to help me.
Chapter 17
Maxwell
I can tell that she is shaken, but I’m shocked at how strong she is. She lets me help her into the car and I drive her home, listening to her take deep, calming breaths every couple of minutes.
When I park in front of her house, she turns to me with a questioning expression. I remember that I was giving her space, but now it is clear she’s asking me to stay. I don’t want to make her say the words out loud.
She lets me go ahead of her and I open up the door, walking swiftly to the house to see that it is secure. When I return to the living room I find her curled up on the couch with her shoes on the floor beneath her, her knees drawn almost nearly to her chest.
“She must have given him a key,” she says softly, figuring it out. “Or he stole her keys. Maybe. I had to make her a new set a few months ago.”
“This is not your fault,” I explain gently, taking a seat next to her and holding her hands. “You could not have known this was going to happen.”
Her eyelashes flutter as she looks at me, searching my eyes for answers to questions she won’t even ask. All I can do is be here and hold her hands, waiting for her mind to settle.
“How did you know?” she whispers plaintively. “How did you know to come back?”
“I didn’t know,” I admit. “I watched you walk in, and waited for a light to go on or something. I didn’t want you to leave. I was hoping you’d come back.”
“Really?” she asks, disbelieving. “That’s amazing. He came out of nowhere and I thought it was over. I really thought he would… I mean, if you hadn’t…”
“I couldn’t leave things like that,” I explain softly. “I needed to know how you felt. I had to ask you. I couldn’t leave it alone for another day, or a few more hours. I couldn’t wait that long.”
Silence hardens beneath us like concrete. If I don’t talk to her now, I may never get through it again. The truth is, I was chasing her. I promised myself to give her space, and immediately broke that promise.
“You don’t have to be in love with me,” I reassure her. “In fact, I can’t believe I’m even bringing it up so soon. But I need you to know. You don’t have to love me back yet. I just need to know if maybe, one day…”
The house is completely silent. I can only hear the ticking of the clock in the hallway and the sound of her breath. Her hands are warm in mine. She looks away for a moment, and then looks back.
“What if I’m afraid?” she asks, so softly I barely hear her.
“You can be afraid.”
“Well, I am afraid,” she admits.
I squeeze her hands tighter. I can sense how much she has to struggle to get these words out.
“But I am falling in love with you too, Maxwell,” she finally says, then breaks into a weird, happy laugh.
“And that is… funny?”
“No, not exactly funny. But yes.”
I’m confused, suddenly sheepish. I did just open my heart to this woman. And she’s laughing?
“I’m sorry,” she says, covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s just… do you remember the first day? When we met?”
“How can I forget? You fondled me and ruined a perfectly good pair of trousers.”
“Oh, did I? You never told me that.”
“What was I going to do, give you a bill?”
I see her smile now for real, and it fills me with relief. If I can make her smile, I can get her through this.
“Well, the thing is… Nayala predicted this.”
I search my memory. “The barista? The woman in the coffee kiosk?”
She nods tightly. “Yep. She told me one day I wouldn’t be able to resist. It sounded like a threat at the time, to be honest.”
Well, if I had known, I would’ve been tipping her better, I remark silently.
“And how does it sound now?” I ask.
Clarissa hesitates, then a sly smile breaks out on her face. She stands up from the sofa and turns to face me, slowly unbuttoning the front of her dress. Every button releases another half inch of her delicious, silky flesh, and I can’t look away.
“It sounds wonderful now,” she whispers, leaning forward to kiss me.
She stands over me, unbuttoning the dress the rest of the way while her lips brush against mine, teasing back and forth. My hands find her hips and guide her forward so she straddles me, then I push the dress off her shoulders.
Silhouetted by the silver light from the street lamps, her hair fanned out over her shoulders, she sits across my hips and brushes her nipples across my shirt playfully. Soon the motions of her grinding flanks get my blood rushing, and I feel that dizzy weightlessness as my cock hardens, urging me toward her.
Her sex is hot; I can feel it through the fabric. She twists and rocks back and forth, teasing me with light glances against the sensitive underside of my erection. Just when I am about to unbutton my pants she slides from my lap to the floor gracefully.
“Let me,” she directs me, and I pull my hands away.
With deft fingers, she unzips my pants and slides them down, freeing my rock-hard erection. Humming hungrily, she leans forward and swirls her tongue over the tip of my cock, teasing out the pearl of pre-cum that glistens there.
Flinging her hair over one shoulder, she pivots to the side so the light catches her profile and lets me watch as she sucks my cock between her caved-in cheeks. Her lips are taut against the shaft and with her other hand I feel pressure at the base, driving me to an even harder state.
“Oh, Clarissa, fuuuuuckkkkk,” I groan, unable to hold back.
Her tongue swirls over the tip of my cock while her hand jerks me from the base. I feel my balls clench and know that if I don’t focus, I’m going to come, but I don’t want to. I want to watch her pretty mouth as she lets my cock slide to the back of her throat. I want to watch my cock disappearing into that beautiful, pouty kiss. Over and over again, she buries my dick in her throat, taking as much as me as she can until the shaft is gleaming, knotted with veins, ready to burst.
“Okay, wait, stop,” I choke out, realizing I am on the edge of the cliff and ready to fall off.
My cock pops out of her lips, leaving a glimmering smear across her chin.
“Stop?” She smiles, gasping for breath. “Are you sure?”
“That’s not how I want to come,” I explain. “Get back up here.”
“That’s what I was hoping you would say,” she purrs, climbing back onto the sofa, her knees on either side of my thighs. My fingers dig
into her plump, wide hips as she hovers tantalizingly close to me, brushing the fringed lips of her beautiful pussy against the head of my cock. I slide back and forth in her juicy channel, eliciting another groan of pleasure from deep within my chest.
“Oh my God, Clarissa, what are you doing to me?”
“Whatever I want,” she answers mischievously.
Circling her hips, she grasps the very tip of my cock with her pussy lips and swirls me around, but doesn’t let me enter her yet. Her nipples brush through the hair on my chest as she arches her back, bouncing teasingly close to me.
“Let me inside you,” I groan.
“I will, I will,” she teases me again.
“Let me inside you!” I command and wrap my arm around her waist, switching positions in one smooth movement. Before she knows it, she is lying on her back on the sofa and I am over her, wrapping her legs around my hips. I take her mouth in mine and kiss her deeply before pulling back and waiting just a moment. I want her to open her eyes. I want to watch her.
Her eyelids flutter delicately for a moment before she opens her eyes to look at me, and her tongue rolls over her top lip. I see her nod, just a little bit, encouraging me as I tease her pussy lips with the head of my cock. Lining myself up, I drive against her entrance with strong, slow pressure. She inhales and bites her lower lip, smiling against the thick sensation as I feel her up.
But we don’t look away. This moment goes on and on, and her gaze seems to get deeper and deeper. I feel like I’m falling into a well.
We rock together, eyes locked, pushing past every boundary we set up for each other. With every moment, we are closer and closer to being one person until we find that precipice and fall off of it together, exploding into dust as our bodies shudder and clasp each other.
Chapter 18
Clarissa
It is getting harder and harder to keep our relationship secret from everyone in the office, but I know we still have to do it. Everything seems to be getting real, and I am almost sure we are obvious. I can’t keep my eyes off him. I feel like even the tone of my voice screams, “Yes, we definitely are having sex!” to everyone who will listen.
As we cross the lobby, I can feel Rosemary staring daggers at me. She must know. She has to! She probably gossips with Frank and Fred and Hillary the moment my back is turned.
Even though Maxwell is right behind me, I duck into my office and close the door immediately. He understands my hesitation, even though he thinks I am being overly cautious. Several people in our office have dated, some have even gotten married. Lou doesn’t have a really strong opinion about it. Like I said, it’s an old-fashioned company. I don’t even think we have a sexual harassment policy. Dating probably wouldn’t be a problem.
But I just feel safer with the door closed, here in my office. I head for my desk and call Landry. After all that drama with Ronnie, I just want to hear her voice.
“Landry? Are you there?” I say loudly through the crackling noise. “I think we have a bad connection!”
“No, we’re at the pool! Sunny knows how to do synchronized swimming!”
If I concentrate, I can definitely make out sounds that seem like they would be coming from a swimming pool. And music. It sounds like Prince.
“Landry? Do you want me to call you back?”
I hear rustling sounds and after a few seconds, silence.
“Okay, I can hear you now. I’m in the sauna.”
“The sauna? Is that good for you?”
I rack my brain, remembering that sushi and saunas were bad for pregnant people. But she makes a disgusted noise and I resolve not to give her any maternity advice. It definitely is not my strong suit.
“So anyway…” I continue.
“You wanted to talk?” she asks in clipped tones.
I can tell she is not thrilled with me, so I decide not to tell her anything about Ronnie. Or anything about maternity advice. Or anything about Maxwell. What is there to talk about?
“Anyway, I just called because, uh... I thought maybe you wanted to come home?”
The line is silent.
“Landry?”
Still silent.
“Shit, did I drop the call?”
“No, Clarissa, I’m here,” she sniffs. “It’s just that I think I’m going to stay here.”
“Stay where?” I ask, confused. “Stay there? With Sunny? You didn’t even want to go.”
“No, you barely asked me what I wanted,” she corrects me pointedly. “You just bossed me around, as usual.”
I bite my tongue, literally.
“So anyway,” she continues, in a huff, “Sunny says that I am such a pleasure to have around, and such a big help to her, that she wants me to stay.”
“Yeah, but you…”
My voice trails off.
“Yes, she wants me to stay all the way up until the baby,” Landry fills in for me. “And then after the baby. Me and the baby. Up here with Sunny. She says that I am a big help to her, and with me around she could stay in her home which she loves.”
I swallow back a bunch of objections, but what can I say? Apparently they have had conversations about this.
“So you’ll stay there even after the baby comes?” I ask timidly.
“Yes! I just told you!”
“Okay, okay, I’m just asking.”
“You know, not everybody thinks that a baby is some giant burden, Clarissa. Not everybody thinks that I am some kind of stupid loser who got knocked up and has to run away. I am a good person with lots of potential! I can do this!”
“Of course you can! I never said—”
But there’s no point in continuing. The line is dead.
Staring at it like I’ve never seen a phone before, I try to process all the things that Landry just said to me. There are too many. I can’t process this all at once.
Just then, my office door swings open and Maxwell comes in, followed by a tall, dark-haired man with heavy cufflinks and a decidedly wealthy swagger.
“Clarissa?” Maxwell smiles. “Do you have a moment? I’d like to introduce you to Raj Abnar.”
My mouth goes dry. I knew he looked familiar. I’ve seen Raj’s picture in Entrepreneur and Wired a half-dozen times. He has been in Crain’s Chicago Business almost continuously over the last year.
I’m not sure about the details, but his family is fabulously wealthy in the Middle East. He was born here, and uses his family’s money—oil money, I think—to finance huge projects. The kind of projects where people by up a city block and demolish everything on it to build a skyscraper. Bigger than anything this company has done before.
“I’m so glad to meet you,” I choke out.
He shakes my hand and though I feel embarrassed about it, I watch him for signs of sexism. I hate to say it, but sometimes men in this city don’t care to do business with women. And somehow when women observe that, we are the sexist ones. Go figure.
But I don’t sense any of that here. He shakes my hand firmly and smiles in a professional, calm way. He doesn’t try to look down my shirt or drop my hand too quickly. He’s completely respectful.
“Maxwell tells me that you are the woman I need to negotiate with to get the marina lots.”
My eyebrows go up, way up. So far up that I can feel them stretching my eyes open.
“Um, yes, of course!” I blurt out, recovering about halfway from my shock.
“Well, I don’t have time today, but I will be back in the city on Monday. Can you arrange a meeting for Monday afternoon, about two?”
Another man appears in the doorway, and Raj glances at him, nodding curtly.
“I’d be happy to,” I smile as he steps away.
“Well, wonderful to see you again, Maxwell. I will be back next week.”
After Raj leaves I slump against the corner of my desk, fanning my collar with my hand. Maxwell grins broadly.
“You okay? You need a glass of water or something?”
“That was Raj Abnar!” I
exclaim.
Maxwell takes a deep breath. He glides forward and drops a pile of papers on my desk, then quickly sneaks in and kisses me, just for a moment, just enough to make sure I am breathless all over again.
“Maxwell! We are at work!”
“Yes, well, I deserve it!” he winks. “Take a look at the contract.”
I glance at the papers, aghast at what I see. It is a brokerage contract, with an estimate of the value of our working relationship, and a single line item estimating my commission.
“Shut up! No way!”
My name is right there, next to the words “lead broker.”
“Maxwell, why are you doing this? Do you guys know each other? You should be on this. Why would you give this to me?”
He shrugs mischievously. “If I know Raj, he’s going to have you running all over town. You are going to work your ass off for that commission. Why should I get any part of it?”
My mind reels. This commission is life-changing. I could practically start my own company with this. A lot of people would. It puts me in a new tax bracket. I know people say “more money, more problems,” but I am willing to give it a try.
Last time I got a big commission check, I had a list of things I could do, and I didn’t do any of them. This time, it will be different. We will take that trip. I will call my mom about paying off her townhouse. I will call Landry about…
“Maxwell? Can I ask a question?”
He leans against the corner of my desk, sliding his eyes up and down my outlines.
“What kind of question?” he asks slyly.
“Not that kind of question!” I insist. “More like… am I supportive? To Landry, I mean? Do I sound—”
“Judgy?” he finishes for me.
He doesn’t say another word, but the look on his face says the rest of it. I have been. I know it. She came to me for support, and couldn’t even tell me. That’s how judgmental I am. She couldn’t even tell me! I had to find out in the hospital.
“Okay. I think I need to make a phone call.”
