“Mel called your Mom. She should be here, tomorrow.”
Her brows furrow. “Really? Why?”
“I guess she just wanted to.”
“Okay.” Her eyes close and she sleeps again.
That’s about the extent of our conversation. I really wanted to bring up the ‘L’ word but it wasn’t the time or the place.
The Quinns show up around midnight and I give them an update, grateful for someone to talk to and fill them in on what happened in their cabin.
With a bribe of fresh coffee, donuts and muffins, the staff lets Mel in to see Isabella before she’s brought to her room. Then the famous couple leaves, promising to be back tomorrow.
While Isabella sleeps I drink buckets of coffee and pace.
Love?
Shit.
Since meeting her, my world is brighter, I can’t wait to see her face and all I want to do is touch her. I’ll be damned.
If that’s love, I’m all in.
It’s almost seven in the morning when she stirs and I jump to her side. “Thirsty?”
She nods and I hold the plastic cup under her chin, placing the straw in her mouth.
After swallowing, she glances down at her elevated feet and lifts her bandaged fingers. “Is it really that bad?”
“No, babe. You may need some hydro therapy but no permanent damage.” I take back the cup and kiss her chapped lips.
She nods, her eyes get teary, and her voice cracks. “I thought I was going to die.”
This was all my fault and I feel like shit. She got caught in the cross hairs because I was taking down Xavier. I should’ve been more careful.
Her brows furrow as if it’s hard to think. “Is Carl okay? There were gunshots. Then everyone drove away. What happened?”
“Some men came after you and he convinced them to go.” There’s no point in telling her more, not yet. The psychiatrist told me to ease out the story slowly as she asks questions.
“Who were they? Why me?”
“We’re still looking into it but we think it was Xavier. He embezzled a lot of money.”
“You got him, right? For sure he was there. He called out to me.”
I shake my head slowly. “What with the storm and all, the FBI thinks he was able to slip out of the country.”
“Shit.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve hired a guy to watch you, twenty-four seven.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Her sweet eyes meet mine. Dammit, when she does that, my chest gets tight thinking how I almost lost her.
Also, I remember the ‘L’ word. Does she?
“Isabella?”
“Uh huh?”
“I want you to stay with me for a while.”
“But what will the stockholders say?”
“I have an idea for keeping you around which will keep them at bay.”
Her mouth turns down. “You’re firing me?”
“No, not that.” I get down on my knees next to the bed. “It’s not illegal for you to work with me if you’re my wife. Marry me?” I hold my breath. Yeah, it’s a shitty marriage proposal but she’s the only woman I ever wanted so bad. I just need a few months for her to figure it out.
She grins and kisses me. “Oh… Okay. I get it. I can be your fake fiancé. I mean, I need this job, right?”
Huh?
That isn’t what I meant but I got a whole lifetime and over a billion dollars to prove how much I love her.
And I always get what I want.
Epilogue
Four weeks later…
I sit, pleased at how well my apartment in Bushwick has turned out. True, it’s decorated with finds from stoop sales and thrift stores but the eclectic nature suits me and the area I live in.
“I really like it here.” I sit back on my futon and sip my wine while Gray laughs and shakes his head at my latest find, a coffee table made from old computer screens and sawed-off legs from an antique desk.
“If you’d just marry me, it’d be a lot easier.” He’s been commuting back and forth from LA and I feel bad but not so bad that I’m willing to get hitched. Not yet. I’m still not sure if he was serious. It was a really odd proposal and he hasn’t really done a good job explaining why. I just figure, eventually we’ll figure it all out.
Besides, I’ve been listening more to my therapist and he says to take it slow and easy. I still got a lot on my plate, like confronting my cousin and dealing with my fucked-up childhood. Stuff like that.
Until then, I’ll keep stalling. “Before we take the plunge, I told you. I need to make it on my own. And no, I’m not taking that pay increase, or the bonus.”
“But babe…”
“No, really. I want to earn the same salary as my co-workers. You agreed. Just for a year.”
“But in this case, you deserve it. I can prove it.” He shows me some figures of a couple other software architects who finished a similar project. “See?”
I got to admit, those couple thousand dollars would come in handy. I’m behind in my college payments and barely making my rent but he doesn’t need to know. He already does way too much for me and it’d be too easy to let him do more.
Standing behind me, he nibbles on my ear. “C’mon, hun. Make a date and let’s get married.”
“What will the stock holders say? Patten Securities hasn’t even recovered from Xavier’s mess.”
He lifts my hair and kisses the back of my neck which he knows makes me wild. “Screw the stock holders.”
“You always say that but you don’t mean it.” I turn my head so I can meet his lips and add more quietly, “Did your investigators find anything more on Xavier?”
“No, but everyone is sure he’s out of the country. The Feds will get him eventually. I promise he’ll pay for murdering Jeanine and what he tried to do to you. All the more reason to marry me so I can keep you safe. I’m tired of waiting, woman.”
“Okay. Let’s make a date.”
“This week?”
“C’mon, now. You’re a big shot. You need some time to plan something amazing.”
“I need you, babe. In my life, at my side, right now.”
I laugh. “We’re almost always together. I’m either in LA or you’re here. I don’t know why you’re going on so. Tell you what, I’ll call Cherry about logistics and help her pick a good date.”
Just not until next year.
He chuckles, lifts me out of the chair, and carries me into my small bedroom, painted light blue. Then, with one hand pulls away the dolphin coverlet and drops me on the sheets covered in ocean waves.
I tug off my top and my bra while he ducks out of his t-shirt. Then, he jumps in, ripples of muscles caressing my chest. “Damn, I missed you.”
“Me, too.” My hands slide down his back while inhaling his scent and kissing his neck and his chin.
It’s always like this when we’ve been apart a couple days. We explore each other, finding the spots we know that drive each other crazy.
Laying on my side, I move my palms to the back of his head as he holds my cheeks and devours my mouth. With his tongue in my mouth, one of his hands drops to my butt and presses me against the bulge under his jeans. I open my legs and squirm, my nipples growing pointed from the friction.
“Damn.” He kisses down my cheek, nibbles my chin, and plays his tongue into my collar bone while I arch up to show him how much more I need.
His contented mouth hums into my skin, he slowly kisses down to my breast and sucks so hard, for a second it hurts and a zing shoots to my clit. Warm liquid pools there and I dig my nails into his back.
Then, he blows cool air onto the offended nipple, licking and teasing it to a hard tip.
Panting, I struggle to release the top button of his jeans. Then, after unzipping him, I free his length and wrap my fingers around him.
How I’ve missed his silky thickness, the feeling of being connected with him. I want my mouth on him but he refuses to let me go and stop what he’s doing to my b
reasts.
I need him to be inside of me, pumping me, making me cum so I torture him by lightly twisting my hand around his cock.
Growling, he grabs my hand away and slides down my body. In seconds, my leggings slide off my ass and onto the floor. Then, he tosses my legs over his shoulders, my heels on his back, while he takes a long lick of my clit.
It swells under his touch, my need growing. If he would just put his finger there, I would explode but he knows my body too well. Instead, he removes his mouth and leaves only his warm breath on my want. Then, he pushes one finger into me and curls.
“Ah, ah…” I’m almost there.
He stops.
“Shit.”
“Shush.” He removes his finger and slowly presses around my nub, not touching the swollen part and I open my eyes.
His brows are furrowed and his mouth tight, as he focuses on my core. I try to reach my hand to relieve my ache but he catches my hand and stops it. “Not yet.”
I whimper and arch but get just the slightest of touches for my effort, not enough to pull me over the edge.
Suddenly, he places his swollen cock at my entrance and fills me with an plunge.
At that unexpected move, my clit explodes while he goes wild. His hands clamp the top of my thighs while my feet arch to the ceiling. He’s so good that my orgasm goes on forever.
I think I might die from how high I am as I pulse around him. Then, he slows and my clit stops throbbing, but not for long.
He pulls out, turns me onto my hands and knees, and drags me to the edge of the bed. Reaching under my belly, he caresses my already over-sensitive breasts, teasing and pulling.
Then he kisses down my back, puts his cock to my ass, and for a moment, I wonder if he’ll enter there until he slides up my soaked clit and presses in.
Oh my God. That feels so good that I press my ass back.
“Again.” His voice is guttural, animal almost.
I do as he wants while he holds my hips to him, my second orgasm ready to explode.
“Now, Gray. Now.”
He moves in and out, his balls hitting my ass, his cock so thick, I wonder if I can take any more.
Faster now, my knees grow weak and I drop onto my elbows.
The angle pleases him for he shouts as he comes, then bursts apart inside of me.
Exhausted, I fall flat onto the bed, with him on top, sweating, his heart beating hard into my back, his warm breath in my ear.
After a few moments he rolls me on top, his fingertips touching my back, my butt, playing with my hair but I can’t even move.
“I really love you, Gray.”
“Mmm. Me too, babe. Ready to get married?”
Oh yeah, I am but too damn tired to say so. Instead, I’m already California dreaming. I’m on a LA freeway, singing tunes at the top of my lungs with a big green exit sign that says, Welcome to My Happy Place, next exit 2 miles.
The End
Still want to know more about Gray and Izzy’s story? No worries. Coming soon. ‘The CEO’s Lucky Charm.’ Find out what happens when Xavier shows up in New York, pissed as hell.
While you wait, if you haven’t already, how about you check out how Mel and CJ got together?
Busted Play
Chapter 1
Melanie
I knock on my own damn door feeling more freaked out with each passing second. “C’mon, Des. Let me in. I know you’re in there.”
Some girl giggles and a knot tightens in my gut. Who the hell is she? At first, when my key didn’t fit, I figured it was just a mistake but now a sinking feeling takes hold and my heart braces for the worst.
My voice cracks as I shout, “You can’t do this. All my stuff is in there.”
Behind the apartment door, my boyfriend whispers for the girl to shut-up. My knees weaken and I slide down the wall. Not only have I wasted the best years of my life but I’ve got no place to sleep tonight. This can’t be happening.
I suppose I could get a lawyer if I could afford one, which I can’t. “Des, open up or I’m calling the cops. This is your last chance.”
Janice, my sweet elderly neighbor, pops into the hall and hands me her cell phone. “Here ya go, sweetie, I’ve already got them on the line.”
“Hello?” I explain to the police how my boyfriend has locked me out and I’ve got no place to go.
Their brilliant solution is to file a complaint in the morning. Dammit. As a parting shot, I kick at the door. Then on the way out, I take Des’ mail and toss it in the trash.
Knowing where he likes to park his car, I take my useless apartment key and scrape it against the length of his Camry. Then, just for good measure, I puncture all four tires with my tiny, but sharp Leatherman.
That cheating bastard. Everything I own is in my apartment. And what about that giggler? Probably some other country bumpkin he picked up, no doubt with more money than me.
How could he do this? We’re in love, dammit. At least I was. Maybe lately things haven’t been that great but every relationship has its ups and downs. Right?
Shit girl, you need to face reality.
Sex has been almost nonexistent for the last few months. He’s been too tired, too busy, or had an infection. My God, I am so, so stupid. For heaven’s sake, even when he lost his job, I stood by him and made his car payments.
Frantic, I call his cell but it goes right to voicemail. Then I text him and get no response there, either. Shit, this nightmare is really happening. My chest tightens and stupid tears flow down my face as I stand alone on the sidewalk in Bushwick.
Down at the corner bodega, people are picking up food for their evening meals and noise comes from the local bar. Happy, normal people pass me by, giving me sympathetic looks.
Oh yeah. Pathetic loser here. Feel free to stare.
I could find a place to hole up but that’ll cost a fortune. Shit. I’ll be damned if I’ll impose on my friends. I guess there’s nothing else to be done. After blowing my nose and wiping my eyes, I call the nearest homeless shelter, Gracie’s Place.
Rather than hail a cab, I walk the two miles. I’m going to need every cent I’ve got. Thankfully, it’s surprisingly warm and as my sneakers pound the sidewalk, I try to find some positives. First off, I got a couple hundred bucks in the bank and no debt on my cards. My father told me to never share accounts unless there was a wedding. If I hadn’t listened, my jerk of a boyfriend would’ve stolen those as well. It could be a whole lot worse.
Feeling a little better, I pause at the old wooden door, take a deep breath, and enter the lobby.
“Hi. Can I help you?” The receptionist at the front desk looks a lot like me, a tall, twenty-something blond with blue eyes.
I tell her my whole screwed-up story and then she takes me up a flight of stairs. There’s a dorm-like room where six other women are already settled, a couple asleep.
“You’ll need to interview with Grace tomorrow, okay?” She points to a cot.
Like I can say no? I’m so damn grateful that I just take a step forward and hug this complete stranger. When I let go, she shows me a drawer full of t-shirts which she explains are rejects from the Salvation Army.
Then, in the bathroom, I wash out my underwear and hang them on a peg behind the door. My coat and the rest of my stuff, I put under the bed. Finally, I get into bed and stare at the ceiling for hours trying to sort it all out.
When had I first sensed things were off?
I’d been in the city for just a few months when I met Des. He was so sophisticated, so New York, so wonderful. He was everything I wanted to be and when he asked me to move in with him, I was thrilled.
Lately though, I haven’t been able to do anything right. We weren’t exactly fighting, we’ve just drifted apart. I figured after four years, some of the magic had worn away and maybe he wasn’t feeling so good about himself because he lost his job.
Despite the pillow over my head, and counting down from one hundred, I can’t exorcise him from my brain. I mu
st’ve slept a little however, because a woman stirs, waking me. Grabbing my cell phone, I moan at the ungodly hour. Whatever. I might as well get up. While she takes a two-minute shower, I wait at the bathroom door.
“New?”
I nod as the dark woman wrapped in a towel stops to stare like I’m some new species of cockroach.
She points to a closet. “One towel. Shampoo and body wash are shared by all. Make it quick because we all got to get to work. Okay?”
Without waiting for an answer, she heads back to the bedroom while whipping off the towel to dry her hair.
After I shower and dress, I stop at the receptionist’s area to give them my work number just in case. My cell phone’s about to run out of juice. At a corner bodega, I grab a coffee and egg sandwich, eating it standing up in front of the register. Then glad for my warm coat and gloves, I walk to work as the sun peeks over the high-rises in nearby Manhattan.
I keep reminding myself, it’s not all bad. At least I still got a job.
Chapter 2
CJ
The doctors told me it would be good as new and yet after a couple weeks, I’m not convinced. Dammit all. If I don’t get back on the field soon, there’s no way my contract is going to get renewed. I need to get a whole lot better, a whole lot faster.
Stan, my manager-trainer is at the front desk, arguing about insurance. I told him I needed better care than this God-forsaken hole-in-the-wall but he insists it’s the best place in the city.
And that young woman who just came in the door? She better not be my physical therapist. She’s obviously slept in those clothes, her hair is wet, and there’s dark circles under her eyes. That’s hardly the professional that I need to get me back in the game.
She shakes hands with Stan and puts her long blond hair into a pony tail. Then staring down at a tablet, heads my way. Under that coat, she’s probably shapely but it’s hard to tell. One thing’s for sure, those cute features, pouty lips, and thick lashes are better suited for a model.
I’m not blind. I like the way her jeans hug her tight ass and I’m sure I’d enjoy her in bed but that’s not what I’m looking for. There’s no way in hell she’s tough enough to get me in shape.
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