I bump into the wall behind me and she laughs. “Better look where you’re going.”
I don’t answer her, turning and walking into my en suite to clean up. I get rid of the condom and wash my hands, splashing water on face and bracing my hands on the edge of the sink.
That was incredible but the connection I feel to her is something I’ve never felt before. She silences my raging mind and the need to be in control a fraction. I’m finding myself wanting to give her control over me and that’s something I promised myself I’d never let happen.
What the hell is happening? How can she be under my skin after such a small amount of time?
My hands start to shake so I splash some more water on my face and look down at my ribs, an intricately drawn swallow staring back at me. Reg said to let it represent freedom and the direction to go in whatever way I wanted to. I’ve never felt true freedom before, always having to stick to a routine, always having to have things a certain way.
“Zander?”
I suck in a deep breath, suppressing my thoughts as I wipe down the sink with a hand towel to get rid of any water droplets. “Coming.”
I walk into the bedroom, my thoughts forgotten as I lay eyes on her again. She crooks a finger at me and I climb in beside her. She’s like a magnet and instantly attaches herself to my side. I stay frozen for a second before wrapping my arm around her waist. This is new territory. I normally do the deed and leave; my form of sexual contact doesn’t require cuddling.
“New tattoo?” she asks absentmindedly, trailing her finger around the edges of the skin starting to scab.
“Yeah.” Not wanting to explain I got it done the night I left her and Kai together, I give her a quick answer and change the topic of conversation. “Thought anymore about letting me take you out?”
She lifts and climbs onto me, straddling my hips with her naked body. “I have.” And there goes my dick, he’s giving her a firm salute. “I’ll go out with you on one condition.”
I can’t tear my eyes away from her pussy barely an inch away from my dick. “Mmm, what’s that?”
“I want you to tell me something about you. I literally know nothing apart from the fact that you like sex and run a fitness company.”
Way to kill the mood.
I turn her over so her back is against the mattress and then get up off the bed, walking into my closet and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. “What do you want to know?”
I stand in the doorway of my closet, hands braced against the doorframe. She wraps a sheet around her upper body and sits up. “You’re obviously from around here.”
My muscles tense and a pain begins to form behind my eyes that I try to shake away. “How’d you work that one out?”
“Your accent.”
Once the pain is gone I collect her clothes and pass them over to her. “Where are you from?”
“Here.”
She starts to get dressed and I help with zipping up her skirt. “You don’t sound like you’re from Boston.”
“I didn’t have too much of an accent before I moved away for college anyway but the last little bit I had, I lost while I was there.”
She turns around in my arms, my fingers brushing her soft skin and I realize her shirt is still downstairs. “Come on, I’ll make us something to eat.”
She follows me down the stairs and into my kitchen, picking up her shirt and putting it on. “How old are you?”
I open the refrigerator and pull out bacon and eggs. “Almost thirty.”
“When’s your birthday?”
I sigh, feeling overwhelmed with all the questions. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t celebrate it anyway.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I take a frying pan out and place it on the stove a little harder than I meant to. “Can we move onto something else?”
“It’s just a birthday.”
“I don’t like talking about it, it’s no big deal.” Thinking about the day I was brought into this world has me clamming up. I don’t want to think about my mom ever, especially not in front of Taylor.
I look up at her from the counter and she hesitates before smiling. “Sure, you can just tell me everything about you on our date.”
I place the bacon in the hot pan knowing I won’t be doing anything of the sort, concentrating on the fact she said we’re having a date. “You’re saying yes?”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course I’m saying yes.”
I abandon the cooking and walk over to her. When she’s sitting on one of the stools at my kitchen island she almost reaches my height so I don’t have to bend down to kiss her softly. “Good. I’d have hated to have to kidnap you.”
9
Taylor
After Zander took me back to his place yesterday, I didn’t know what to expect. I still don’t know if I’m really honest with myself. He’s unpredictable and secretive. I’m dying to jump into the deep end, but it doesn’t look like he’s very willing to let me do more than paddle. It’s okay for now, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to know every little thing that makes him tick.
I have no idea where he’s taking me tonight and I’ve been freaking out about what to wear ever since he took me back to work yesterday. On top of that, I’ve been panicking about the fact that for the three hours I was gone, I didn’t have enough to show my boss about the advertisements apart from a stinging asscheek.
Zander and I talked a little about them but I only had a small amount to go on. I had hoped it would be enough to placate him until I had the meeting Zander had promised me, but work was a different event to what I had in my head. As soon as I got there, Steph raced toward me with a grin on her face. “You’re the talk of the office.”
She then told me people were saying I told my boss where to “shove it,” so I corrected her and told her to tell people to stop being so dramatic. Office gossip always gets out of control.
Then my boss saw I was back and ignored me, shutting his door in my face after I told him I had some amazing ideas for the designs. I walked around with my head held high still, but not once did he speak to me about anything other than my regular job for the rest of the day, thank God. I was expecting a lecture but when home time rolled around and he dismissed me, telling me I could go at my normal leave time, I picked up my purse and walked out without complaint.
Today was much the same, except throw in a particularly naughty text from Zander around lunchtime that had me squeezing my legs together and blushing in the middle of Starbucks. But other than that; it was uneventful. I was told to get on with my regular job and that was that.
I guess it’s better than him breathing down my neck and having me running here, there, and everywhere.
And now I have two hours before Zander is picking me up and I have no idea what to wear, my hair isn’t done, and I have a zit the size of the Empire State Building on my chin. I need D.
I pour myself a glass of wine and one for D; I know she’ll be home soon so I sit and wait for her fashion advice.
I jump when the door flies open, a stormy-faced D slamming it shut behind her. I hold up the wine and she drops her gym bag, grabby hands coming for the glass.
She takes a long sip before finally talking. “I officially hate my life, but I love you for this glass of wine.”
I chuckle. “What’s wrong?”
Her brow furrows. “I’m so mad. We got told the gym is going bankrupt. They’re selling off whatever they can.” She takes a huge gulp of wine again. “In a few more days I’ll no longer be employed.”
Suddenly my fashion dilemma doesn’t seem so important anymore. “Oh, D, I’m sorry. You’ll find a new job, you’re great at what you do.”
“I know, I just… I really liked it there, it was a family-run gym and I knew all my clients. I hate the thought of starting over and having to tell my parents I’m unemployed again. They already think I’m a giant screwup.”
I can’t argue with her on that. Although D is fun and bubbly, s
he didn’t get her good naturedness from them. When we were growing up, they were always really strict with her. When I was going to school dances and homecoming, she was always at an after-school activity they pushed her to take.
“So don’t tell them. I’m sure you can find a new job easily and if it ever comes up about the old place, say you switched because it was better money or something.”
She contemplates for a second. “I can’t lie to my mom, you know she’s a human lie detector.”
I raise a brow. “If your sister can keep it hidden that she was pregnant for six months while living right under their noses before they ever found out, I’m sure you can pretend to be working until you find a new job.”
Shrugging, she gets up off the sofa and walks into our open-plan kitchen. “I guess so. Anyway, enough of that. What do you want for dinner? I’m starving.” She roots through our takeout drawer, holding up two menus. “Pizza or Chinese?”
“Actually… I kinda have a date.”
“With who?”
“Dark and Broody.”
She squeals. “Your news totally trumps mine! Why didn’t you say anything?”
“My news does not trump yours.”
“Where are you going?” Her mouth opens wide. “What are you wearing?”
I place my wine on the coffee table and stand. “Are you feeling up to helping me?”
“Hell yeah,” she replies, rolling her eyes and picking up the bottle of wine I left on the counter. “May as well live vicariously through you.”
“What are you talking about? You get plenty of dates.”
“With losers,” she finishes. “Where’s he taking you?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I’ve been freaking out all day. I don’t know whether to dress casual-sexy or sexy-sexy.”
She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Always sexy-sexy.”
She hands me the bottle of wine and disappears into my closet. I hear her shuffling my hangers. “No, no, no… yes! Taylor, you have to wear this, you’ll knock his socks off.”
“What if he’s not wearing socks?” I joke.
“Then eww… but you’ll definitely have the rest of his clothes off,” she retorts, shoving a tight black dress at me.
“You do realize this is the second time in a week you’re forcing me to wear a dress.” Okay, so maybe she didn’t force me to wear the dress at New Year, but she may as well have.
“Stop complaining.”
I groan. “But now I have to shave my legs again.”
She takes the dress from me, her normally warm brown eyes looking slightly dull, and lays it over my bed. “Then go and de-hair, Chewbacca. I’ll get some accessories ready.”
I hesitate. “I can cancel my date if you need me here.”
“And both of us be miserable? No. I refuse to be a cock-block. I’ll get Davey to come over.” When I don’t move again, she gives me a small smile. “Honestly. I’m okay.”
I walk into the bathroom feeling guilty. I don’t want to leave her in her time of need, she’s always there to pick me up when I’m feeling like shit. But I know she’d never accept me canceling my date for her.
After a quick shave, I lather myself in cocoa butter and walk back into my room. D has made a dent in the bottle of wine and is waiting with a curling iron in one hand and a comb in the other—a dangerous combination.
“Sit.” She points to the chair in front of her and I do as she tells me. “What time is he picking you up?”
“Eight.”
“Then we have an hour to turn you into a walking wet dream.”
I grin. “Let’s do this.”
For someone that wears yoga pants and sports bras daily, she sure knows how to turn me from a three into an eight.
She sections off my hair and starts to loosely curl it as I moisturize my face and start applying a small layer of foundation, concentrating the concealer on my new friend on my chin. I take out a brown eyeshadow and start blending it over my eyelid before using a darker shade in the corner. I don’t want to look too overdone, whenever I try and do fancy makeup on my eyes I always look like I’ve been punched in the face, so I always stick with neutral tones.
“That’ll do,” I state before finishing off the rest.
D finishes my hair and helps me get into the dress. It comes down to my knees and accentuates every curve and bump I hate.
“Yeah, I really don’t think this is the dress.”
She takes a step back and taps her finger on her chin. “It’s not the dress, it’s your underwear.”
A buzz from the living room has me panicking. “D, I’m not ready! Go stall him!”
“What do you expect me to do?”
“You literally talk all the time. You’ll think of something.”
I run into my closet as she walks out and find a pair of underwear that doesn’t cut into my muffin top and pull them on, hearing a deep voice mixed with D’s overly flirty one. I roll my eyes and grab a pair of heels, shoving my feet into them and scooping up my clutch bag I prepared earlier.
I take one last look in the mirror and fluff up my hair, satisfied it was the underwear and not the dress. Blowing out a breath, I open my bedroom door and walk into the living room trying to exude more confidence than I feel.
“And then I—finally,” D mutters making Zander turn around.
His gaze meets mine before scrolling down my body. When he looks at my face again, his eyes are heated but he has a beaming smile that lights up his face. I’ve never seen that smile before. “You look beautiful.”
I’d say butterflies were flying around in my stomach, but it’s more like a stampede as I ogle him the same way he did me. The white shirt he’s wearing is neatly pressed and so are his dark blue jeans. Like the ones he had on the other day, they have a rip in the knee showing off his tattoos.
“Don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. Reed.”
D clears her throat and points toward her room. “I’ll leave you to it. Have a great time.”
“No need, we’re leaving now,” Zander says, kissing me on the cheek before putting his hand on the bottom of my back to guide me out of the door.
“Call Davey,” I throw over my shoulder to D.
“I will.”
“You better.”
She winks and mouths, “Use protection.”
I hold in my snort as I close the door behind us and sigh because I have to walk down three flights of stairs due to our crappy landlord not getting the elevator fixed.
“What’s wrong?”
I gesture toward my towering stilettos. “These heels hate stairs.”
“I can carry you… again,” Zander says, smirking.
“Again? Wait… I don’t think I want to know.” I start walking down them. “I’m perfectly capable of walking.”
He chuckles but doesn’t say anything else, following me down and out of the building to his car.
We drive into the center of the city in relative silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward, I feel comfortable watching the sights go by instead of filling the car with small talk. He parks in an underground lot of a nearby hotspot and opens my car door for me.
“Thanks.”
He takes my hand and frowns. “You didn’t bring a coat.”
I wave him off. “I’m a woman, I’m used to wearing small amounts of clothing in sub-par temperatures.”
His frown doesn’t lessen any, but he entwines his fingers with mine and we walk onto the sidewalk down to the most sought-after bar in Boston. There’s a queue outside and I start to walk toward it.
“This way,” he comments, gently coaxing me in the direction of the door.
I don’t argue as he swaps head nods with one of the doormen who lifts the rope for us as if we’re celebrities. D would combust if she knew I was in here, we’ve been trying to get in since it opened four months ago, but that line outside? It never seems to go down for us regular people.
I try to keep my girly giggle inside but it sneaks o
ut as the doors close behind is. “That was amazing! I can’t believe we just waltzed in here.”
He snorts. “Perks of knowing the doorman. He’s the manager at one of the NutriLift gyms, I called him earlier to see if he was working tonight.”
“I’m glad he was. This place is beautiful.”
The interior is rustic yet sleek somehow. There’s no dance floor, this isn’t that kind of place, but there are several bars dotted around the space as well as private booths and tables. We choose a small private booth and a waitress in a stylish blazer comes over to take our order. I peruse the menu for a second before ordering a whiskey sour.
“And for you?” she asks Zander.
“Water, thanks.”
She nods and walks off, leaving us. “I can take the subway or a cab home if you want to drink.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. I don’t drink.”
“You don’t?”
Without looking up at me, he replies, “I like to keep a clear head.” He finally lifts his gaze and offers me a smile. “Besides, after seeing you drunk, it’s enough to put anyone off alcohol.”
I groan into my hands. “That is so not fair. Have I thanked you and apologized for that yet?”
Our drinks arrive and I take a sip of mine as he sets his sights on me again. “It’s not me you need to apologize to, it’s my drool-soaked shirt.”
My eyes widen. “Your what?”
“Your friend didn’t tell you about me taking you home that night? I carried you up three flights of stairs.”
I remember his comment from earlier. “She might’ve mentioned it.” She absolutely didn’t. “Did I do anything else to embarrass myself?”
He chuckles. “No. You fell asleep after I put you in my car.”
Well that’s a relief, unless… “Was I snoring?”
He tries to hide a sexy smirk. “Only a little.”
“And you still wanted to take me on a date?” I sit back in the booth, my lip quirking at the corner. “I’ve still got it.”
“That you do.” His voice is deep with the perfect amount of crackle to it.
Taking Control (Control Series Book 1) Page 7
