by Liv Morris
Our eyes meet at the exact moment he’s fully seated inside of me, and we both know I’m no longer a virgin. Instead, I’m fully and completely his.
“Are you okay, sweet girl?” he whispers, in a gentle voice. “I want this to be so good for you. It’s all that matters to me.”
“Yes,” I say. “It’s perfect because I’m with you.”
After a beat, he moves inside me, until the pinch begins to subside. I wrap my legs around his waist, raising my hips to meet his movements, wanting him to know I’m all right.
“Tell me I’ll be your last,” he breathes, possessing me with the deepest kiss.
“The only one,” I sigh against his lips.
The pain turns to pleasure as he makes love to me in a sweet and gentle rhythm. Then he teases my most sensitive spot with his finger, making slow circles, and I know my release is seconds away.
“Come for me, sweet girl,” he says, coaxing with his words and touch.
My orgasm rushes over me, and I’m lost to the feelings as he continues his movements inside me.
When I open my eyes and gaze up at this beautiful man who holds my heart, his eyes reflect a wild desperation as he falls over the edge too.
“Tessa,” he hisses in a long breath.
The look on his face, the pained pleasure etched in the strain of his jaw, will forever be burned in my memory.
After we both catch our breaths, he rests his forehead against mine with a sigh. His breath smells of bourbon and spice like a man, and I inhale deeper.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” he says. “You okay?”
“Amazing,” I say with the most contented smile.
He gives me a quick kiss before getting up to discard the condom. I bite my lip as he strides away to the en suite bath, watching the slightest jiggle in his tight butt. I fall back on the bed in a swoon.
When he returns, he puts his underwear back on, and walks toward the bed. I think he’s going to climb in beside me, but he wraps the white bedspread around me like a cocoon and cradles me in his arms instead.
“I want to show you something,” he says, carrying me toward a set of French doors.
“Open it, please.” He bends down, and I turn the knob, pushing the door free from the inside. He pads outside onto a large terrace filled with loungers and table sets.
He eases us down on one of the loungers, and I lie back against his chest. “Look up,” he says, and I do. “There’s nothing between us and the universe in the night’s summer sky.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, gazing up at the twinkling stars shining brighter than the city lights.
“But not as beautiful as you,” he marvels.
He folds me tighter into his arms and we stare at the sky, listening to the humming white noise of the city below. And somewhere in the warmth of his embrace, I drift off, lulled to sleep by the rise and fall of his chest.
43
Tessa
“Tessa,” Barclay calls, pulling my brain out of its slumber. “Time to wake up, sleepy head.”
“Go away,” I mutter, refusing to open my eyes. He’s interrupting a beautiful dream of last night with him. “My dream was just getting to the good part.”
“And what part might that be?” he asks, stroking my cheek.
The man isn’t letting up on getting me up, so I give in and peek at him through fluttering lashes. My eyes go wide at the sight before me. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed decked out in an onyx colored suit that matches the color of his smoky eyes. His wavy black hair is perfectly smoothed back, and he smells divine. I want to grab him by his red silk tie and drag him back to bed with me.
“You’re too handsome and tempting for this early in the morning.”
Since I fell asleep without clothes on, I pull the soft sheets up to my neck and move to sit beside him. Unable to fight his magnetic presence, I run a finger along his lapel, toying with one of the buttons on his jacket.
“It’s not that early, sweetheart,” he says, pointing to the clock on the nightstand. Eight thirty. Whoa, he’s right.
If I were still employed at Hammond Press, I’d have to be at my desk, computer fired up, and ready to roll in thirty minutes, which makes me wonder why Barclay didn’t wake up sooner. Just like I feared, I’m already getting preferential treatment by being in his bed.
“Last night … I should’ve told you something before we did all this.” I glance away from his intense gaze and take a deep breath for courage.
In the light of day, and without all the raging hormones blurring my thoughts, I regret not telling him about the resignation letter before I took one step inside his door. In my defense, I was helpless when he silenced me with searing kisses and a talented tongue, but still, I wasn’t honest with him.
“Hush.” He quiets me, placing a long finger over my lips. “I know all about your email to Reece.”
“You do?” My mouth drops open, and his lips tilt up in the hottest, I-know-it-all smirk.
“Reece emailed while I was drinking my coffee. It woke me up better than the caffeine.” He regards me in an impassive manner. It’s a powerplay expression that works in the boardroom, but not so much in the bedroom.
“Are you upset with me?” I ask.
“Well, Reece isn’t accepting your resignation via email, and as your boss’s boss, neither am I. We want you in the office by ten.” He adjusts his shiny cufflinks and stands, dismissing further conversation on the matter.
“I’m leaving Hammond. And there’s nothing that will change my mind.” I stand up next to him in a huff, attempting to drape the long sheet around me, but end up looking like a half-nude mummy.
“This is a bit of overkill.” The sexy devil laughs at my expense, tugging at the sheet. “Since I’ve already seen and kissed every inch of you.”
“I’m aware of this fact.” I sigh, my eyes going all dreamy, remembering his lips on me everywhere.
“And we’ll see about you leaving. Now, go get ready.” When he passes by me, he slaps my ass, though I barely feel it under the wrapped sheets.
“What was that?” I ask in protest, though I actually loved it and hope he does it again.
“Just trying to keep you in line, sweet girl.” He walks out the bedroom door and I follow, hot on his trail. “My driver will pick you up promptly at nine forty-five.”
“That’s not necessary. It’s only a few blocks away.” Midtown traffic moves at a snail’s pace. I can walk to the building faster—even in heels.
Entering the smooth marble entryway, Barclay stops on a dime, turning around to face me. Unprepared, I slam straight into his hard chest. He grabs hold of my arms and gazes down at me, a mischievous spark in his eyes.
“I want to make sure you’re there at ten, so you’re being supervised.”
“I’m not a child.” I cross my arms over my chest, thus pushing my boobs up and nearly over the sheet wrap. Barclay’s eyes focus on my prominent cleavage, and he licks his lips.
“Oh, believe me, Tessa. I’m quite aware you’re a woman.” He takes me in his arms and gives me a scorching kiss, leaving me breathless. “See you soon, beautiful.”
I stare at the closed door long after he’s gone, wondering what’s so important about me coming in today. Shouldn’t an email suffice? Maybe it’s just a formality, but my southern intuition tells me the suited sex god is up to something. Perhaps we’ve both been less than forthcoming.
“Good morning, Miss Holly,” Lawrence says as I climb into the back of the car. “You’re looking lovely today.”
“Thank you.” His compliment seems genuine, and I appreciate it. I want to make a good impression when I walk into Hammond on my last official day.
When we arrive at the building, I exit the car and hold my head high as I walk inside the lobby where it all began with spilled coffee.
I take the elevator to the top floor and plant myself in my chair at precisely ten. My cubicle is exactly as I left it on Friday—sticky notes scattered along the
sidewall and artwork for the Hamming It Up Instagram campaign lying next to my computer.
I can’t deny I feel horribly sad and disappointed knowing this will be my last time sitting here. I only just began chasing my dream, and I loved everything about the job, except it’s dating policy.
Grabbing a tissue from the box on my desk, I dab my eyes. I know I made the right decision to leave in the end, but facing what I’ll miss head-on makes my heart hurt. I wish they accepted my email resignation instead of subjecting me to this torture.
I sit at my desk and make a list of other companies that were once interested in me. I canceled their interviews after I accepted my position and sold my blog to Hammond Press. Poor Shakespurr is out of my hands now, and that stings the worst.
“Good morning, Tessa.” Ms. Young, my soon to be ex-boss, startles me from my thoughts. She leans over my cubicle with an odd smile on her face. At least she’s not mad at me, or is faking it, but that’s not her style.
“Good morning?” I say, confused all around with the way she’s treating me under the circumstances.
“Mr. Hammond will see you now,” she laughs, confounding me even more. I see no humor in this entire matter. “Along with his mother.”
“Huh?” I say my thoughts out loud. What does his mother have to do with me quitting?
“I was right about the two of you,” she says, nodding with that same strange smile spread across her face. “I’d watch him staring at you with this sad, longing look during our marketing meetings. Hell, the sexual tension was hot enough to melt the paint off the walls. Besides, I’m good at spotting a man in love.”
“In love?” I squint my eyes, unsure I heard her correctly.
She bursts out laughing. “You have no idea. Now, get to his office and come back to see me when the meeting’s over.”
I rise up on shaky legs and make my way down the hallway to Barclay’s office suite. It takes all my strength to turn the doorknob and walk inside.
44
Tessa
“Miss Holly,” Mrs. Mackenzie exclaims as she rises from her desk, crossing the room to meet me. “Mr. Hammond and his mother, Sandra, are waiting for you. Follow me, dear.”
She gives my arm a reassuring squeeze, along with a tender smile. I imagine I look like I’m headed toward the firing squad.
Mrs. Mackenzie opens Barclay’s door, and my feet feel like lead. “It’s going to be okay.” Mrs. Mackenzie gives me a gentle nod, and I enter.
He’s discarded his suit jacket and leans against the edge of his desk. His long legs are crossed at the ankle, appearing casual and relaxed—and hot as hell.
His mother sits demurely in a leather chair to the side of Barclay’s desk. It’s no guess where Barclay got his glossy black hair. When she smiles at me, her eyes shine as bright as a blue sky. She’s wearing a pink suit—Chanel, most likely, from the make and cut. It’s my dream work attire.
“Tessa,” Barclay says. “This is my mother, Sandra Hammond.”
“It’s so lovely to meet you, Tessa,” she says in a cheery tone, which surprises me. Her son and I have “broken the rules of personal engagement” at Hammond.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” I reply, making sure to use my southern manners. There’s no handshaking or formalities between us either. Everything feels personal.
“I’m sorry we didn’t meet at the picnic. I was so busy keeping everything afloat. If we would have run out of food or alcohol, the natives would have worried the company was going under.”
We all laugh at her humor. I immediately like her.
“It was a great party,” I say. And it’s true, even if it ended with Barclay and me fighting about Mark.
“My husband told me he met a lovely young woman from Alabama. Minus the blond hair, he said you reminded him of me. And now, just like his father, Barclay finds himself falling for a southerner who works for him. Funny, isn’t it?”
Perhaps it is, but I’m not laughing. I glance at Barclay, worried she knows about us.
“I told my mother our story at the picnic and she started cooking up a workaround for us.” He winks at me, and I exhale a deep breath, having a glimmer of hope for the first time.
“Have a seat, and I’ll explain,” Mrs. Hammond says to me, pointing to the chair across from her. I do as she asks.
“I called for an emergency board meeting this morning,” his mother begins. “We’ve promoted Reece Young to chief marketing officer. It was long overdue. She’ll report to board member, Mary Murphy, who was formerly head of marketing for Time Warner. Ms. Young will no longer be in Barclay’s chain of command, and most importantly, neither will you.”
“We’re in the clear,” Barclay pushes off the edge of the desk and strides to me. Taking my hand, he pulls me to my feet and gazes down at me with eyes full of hope … for us.
“I can’t believe this,” I say, glancing between Barclay and his mother, hardly able to contain myself. “How will I ever be able to thank you?”
“Join our family at the Hamptons this weekend. We want to get to know you better,” she says. I look at Barclay, and he nods.
“I’d love too. Thanks,” I say in a rush, the excitement bubbling up inside me. I have my dream job—and my dream man. How did this even happen? I’m simply amazed.
“I’d do anything for my son and the woman he wants.” She rises out of the chair and straightens her skirt. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone to celebrate.”
As soon as the door closes behind her, Barclay envelops me in his arms, holding me so close, I can barely breathe. His lips skate over my neck, and I lean my head to the side, letting him have better access.
“How do you feel about fettuccine?” Barclay whispers in my ear.
“I love it,” I breathe as his hands slip under my skirt, approaching the danger zone.
“Great. There’s this little place in Philly that serves the best. I’m having it flown in tonight.”
“But there’s an Italian restaurant on every block here.”
“I only want the best for you.” He gazes down at me with heat in his eyes.
“Why are you spoiling me like this?” I ask, secretly loving how he treats me like a queen.
“It’s a long list.”
“Care to share?” I ask, curious to hear what he thinks about me.
“I’m in love with your smile and sweet innocence.” His lips skim my jawline, sending tingles over my skin.
“The way you twirl your hair when you’re nervous.” He nips at my earlobe, making me squirm in his arms.
“And the dark side of me craves your sinful body.” His fingers delve under the lace of my panties, finding the spot yearning for his touch.
“I’m in love with you, Tessa. All of you.”
He starts kissing over my cheeks, shushing me, and it’s then I realize his lips are wiping away my tears.
“I love you too,” I whisper, barely able to speak.
Fate doesn’t hate us after all.
45
Tessa
I pace the sidewalk outside the Hammond Hotel, waiting for Miles and Maggie to arrive with all my earthly possessions from Alabama. Glancing down the one-way street, a U-Haul van comes into view with Maggie waving at me. She beams with excitement as she bounces in the passenger seat.
Before Miles brings it to a complete stop, she jumps out of the van. My brother scowls at her and shakes his head. I have a feeling it’s been a long trip for him.
“Oh my God!” she screams, running toward me, her long brown hair flying behind her. “I made it.”
“I’m so happy you’re finally here.” She gives me a big hug as Miles walks up behind her. His frown has transformed into a broad smile, his eyes sparkling at me.
“Where’s my hug? I’m the one who had to put up with her for eleven hundred miles.” He embraces me, and it feels so good to be surrounded by his familiar, protective arms. I’ve missed him so much.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say as he
inspects me from head to toe.
“You look happy and have this glow.” He tilts his head and rubs his chin. “The city suits you, though part of me hates to admit it. I’d prefer to have you back home.”
“Well, there’s no place like home, but Manhattan’s feeling like my second one,” I tell him, and he rolls his eyes, but still with a smile.
“You’ve done good, little sis.”
Miles helps Maggie and I unload our few boxes onto carts provided by the hotel … or Barclay, really. He made sure we had plenty of help to get what few things I own—all five large boxes—upstairs into my apartment.
My mother packed everything up for me, but I left all my childhood trinkets and memories back in Alabama. For some reason, I wanted to be able to go home and stay in my old room, still surrounded by them. Keep the memories in one place. Maybe later, I’ll bring some back, but I want New York City to make its own mark on me for now.
Maggie, Miles, and I are in front of the apartment door with the first load of boxes. I dig the keys out of my pocket.
“Hurry up,” Maggie says, but I hand her a set of keys instead of opening the door myself.
“Here are yours.” I place a brand new sterling silver Tiffany key chain in the palm of her hand. It was a splurge after my first paycheck.
“Tessa. Thank you. ” Her eyes cloud as she smiles at me in the sweetest way. It means everything, because we made it. Our dream of living here came true.
My brother leaves Maggie and me alone while we unpack. He wouldn’t say what he was up to, but I imagine he’s likely grilling the hotel staff about Barclay. Even out of uniform, my brother wears an invisible badge.
I told my family about Barclay and I being together as a couple the day after the company shifted my boss’s reporting line. I wanted them to find out from me, not the press or one of the small town’s gossips. And believe me, everyone knows everyone’s business in Monroeville.
