by Layla Hagen
"You'd better lay it on thick," he continues. "Nothing less than ‘he's the best thing to walk on this earth’ is acceptable."
I suppress the urge to giggle, sliding down lower in the car seat.
"He makes me smile all the time," I confess.
"You deserve to."
"He also makes me blush a tad too much."
"Really?" His voice has turned thick and rich, like melted butter.
"Yeah," I confirm, suddenly feeling shy.
"Just one question. Does he also make you want to touch yourself?"
In the few seconds it takes for his words to register, my entire body heats up, desire bolting through me. I press my thighs together, attempting to quench the throb in my center.
"Christopher!"
"I take that as a yes."
"You're a bad influence."
"Best words I've heard all day." A loud crack alerts me that there’s some commotion on his end. "My assistant just came into my office with a report I need to look at. Let me know about the tryouts."
With that dismissal, he clicks off, leaving me to wonder how he can switch from naughty to businesslike in the span of a second. Still, with some time left to kill, I pick up my e-reader again, attempting to lose myself in the book I was reading. Only my mind flies far too often to a certain bearer of bad influence, and I'm far too aware of all the places where my body aches for him.
***
"I made it," Lucas announces a while later after all but ripping the car door open.
"Congratulations." I refrain from leaving the car and congratulating him properly because the risk of hugging and kissing my brother for all his teammates to see is far too high. "Hop in."
After he climbs in and secures his seatbelt, I say, "How about picking the girls up and going for some cheesecake? At our favorite coffee shop?"
"Awesome. Can I ask Christopher if he wants to come too? I think I only made the team because of this trick he showed me. I was the only one who did it."
"Sure. Go ahead, ask him. But don't call him. Send a message. He might be in a meeting."
Nervously, I gun the engine while Lucas types on his phone. Seconds later, he exclaims, "He wants to join us. I'll tell him to meet us there."
A thin sheet of sweat breaks on my forehead because I wasn't expecting to see Christopher so quickly, especially after admitting the rather unorthodox effect he has on me.
***
"And then the coach told me I would be an assert to the team," Lucas exclaims through mouthfuls of cake. We're all at the coffee shop, listening to his play-by-play recount of the tryouts.
"You mean asset," Sienna corrects him.
"No. I'm sure he said assert," Lucas insists. Sienna looks away, snickering, while Chloe keeps muttering “asset” and “assert,” as if she can judge the correctness of a word if she says it often enough.
I love this place. It's a quaint mom-and-pop coffee shop with a decor that seems stuck in the nineties, but cake recipes have definitely kept up with the times. What I especially like is that they have booths, which offer privacy.
Next to me, Christopher shakes his head, prodding Lucas with more questions. We haven't spent time alone since he joined us here, but the man is constantly touching me. He brushes my hand each time he reaches for his glass of soda, and his thigh rubs against mine occasionally, lingering a split second too long for it to be accidental.
"Okay, if everyone's ready, we should head home," I announce about an hour and a half later. There is a general sound of disagreement from the kids, but they don't fight me.
"I'll go ahead with Lucas and Chloe, get Chloe in her seat and everything, while you pay," Sienna offers after I ask for the bill.
"Great idea," I say, handing her the car key.
After slipping into their jackets, they take turns saying good-bye to Christopher and leave the coffee shop just as Ms. Winters, the owner, waitress, and all-around kick-ass woman who runs this business, hurries our way in obvious distress.
"There's a slight problem with the cash register,” she says. "But it should work again in a few minutes. I’ll bring you some Turkish delight to make up for it. It's a new recipe. I think you'll like it."
"Wow, thanks," I call after her, because she's already hurrying back to the front. I'd tell her I have no problems paying without receiving the receipt, but I know her golden rule. She never takes money without handing out a receipt for it.
Scooping out my phone, I text Sienna to start the car and turn on the heat because I'll be a few minutes late. As soon as I drop the phone in my purse, Ms. Winters returns with a small plate filled with Turkish delight.
I become acutely aware of Christopher's fingers trailing up and down my back.
"Thank you for including me in your celebration," he says.
"Lucas wanted you here."
Leaning into me, he whispers in my ear, "And you didn't?"
His proximity is intoxicating, and it prompts a confession out of me. "I wanted to see you so badly, I ached."
Christopher's fingers dig slightly into my back, and not really knowing what else to say, I pop a Turkish delight in my mouth. Oh my word, it's delicious.
"You have powdered sugar on your mouth," Christopher informs me.
Frantically I wipe away at it, but he chuckles. "You just smeared it everywhere."
He slips his hand under my chin, turning my head in his direction. Following suit, I shift in my spot until my upper body faces him too. Christopher dusts his fingers over my mouth, rubbing with his thumb on the left corner. Then he drags it down to the center of my lower lip and desire spears me instantly. A low moan tumbles out of me, and we both suck in our breath, the space between us suddenly feeling too small. He peers behind me, and it takes me a second to realize he must be checking whether there are guests in the booth opposite us. There aren't. I already checked earlier.
Christopher closes the distance between us, sealing his lips over mine. His kiss is like a breath of fresh air on a warm spring morning. Crisp and invigorating, taking over all of my senses. I succumb to it all, entwining my tongue with his, probing and tasting. He explores me like a man determined to uncover my deepest secrets. His hand cups the back of my neck, his fingers digging into my hair. The gesture sends a jolt right through my center, all my nerve endings zipping to life.
His mouth is a thing of wonder. I could drown in him like this for hours.
When we pull apart for air, we rest our foreheads against one another’s, the tension between us so thick I could bite into it. Christopher's hand is still at the back of my neck, and he tilts my head slightly to one side, trailing his mouth down my cheek until he reaches my ear.
"I've been fantasizing about this for weeks," he whispers in a low, delicious voice. "I'm so hard right now, I can barely see straight. But I can imagine all the ways I could love you right here on this table."
"Christopher!"
"Don't say my name like that or I'll kiss you again, and this time I might forget we're in a public place."
Knowing I can make this man lose control without even trying gives me immense satisfaction. As we hear the unmistakable sound of Ms. Winters's heels approaching, we pull apart, trying to compose ourselves.
"Here is your bill," she informs me, placing it on the table. Christopher's hand shoots toward it, but I block him.
"Absolutely not. I invited you." I pay Ms. Winters before he has the chance to fight me. As the elder woman chats me up, asking me about my business, I rise from the table, slipping into my coat.
"Are you coming?" I ask Christopher, who hasn't moved from his spot.
He cocks a brow, gesturing with his chin down below. My cheeks instantly heat as I remember what he told me after the kiss.
"I’ll talk to you on the phone, then," I say, attempting to gather my wits and not allow the image of Christopher's predicament to hijack my thoughts. No such luck. "About your keys, and…."
"Other things," Christopher finishes for me, the cor
ner of his mouth lifting up. "You should probably go to the kids, in the car."
That snaps me out of my haze, and I check the old grandfather clock on the wall. The kids have only been gone a few minutes, though it feels like an hour has passed since they left.
After a curt good-bye, Ms. Winters walks me out of the coffee shop. As I hurry to the car, one thing becomes clear. Next time Christopher and I are alone, I'm going to be in big trouble.
***
Sleep evades me that night. I go to bed early because I have an early meeting with a potential client, but I end up staring at the ceiling for what feels like hours, replaying the kiss in my mind, touching my lips as if I can barely believe it happened. I wonder if Christopher is awake too.
Almost unwillingly, I reach out in the direction of the nightstand, curling my fingers around my phone. A small voice in my mind tells me it wouldn't be appropriate to text Christopher right now, but I brush it off. We crossed to inappropriate a few hours ago. Hovering with my fingers over the screen of my phone, I begin to type a message, then delete it. After repeating the process a few times, I sigh in frustration. That's when the brilliant idea strikes me of replicating one of his own icebreakers.
Victoria: I have a problem.
Only after pressing Send do I realize that it's much later than I thought—it's past midnight. Christopher must be asleep. Still, I hold onto the sliver of hope that maybe he's awake. My breath catches when my screen lights up with an incoming message.
Christopher: And what's that?
Victoria: A certain someone gave me the most amazing kiss a few hours ago, and I can't stop thinking about it.
This time when my screen lights up, it's not with a message, but with a call. I don't even think twice before answering.
"Excuse the late call, but this requires more assistance than a text message." Just the sound of his voice is enough to send my pulse into overdrive. I easily slip into his game.
"Thank you for taking your time to help me with this serious matter."
"You know what the real problem is?"
"What?"
"That you rate that as ‘the most amazing kiss.’"
My stomach plummets and I pull my covers up to my chin, insecurity gripping me. "You didn't like it?"
"I loved it, Victoria. But we were in public."
I try hard not to acknowledge the flutter in my stomach at hearing the words “loved” and “Victoria” in the same sentence. Those damn butterflies again.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask.
"That I was holding back."
"Oh." Ohohoh! Now I understand, and my mind conjures up images of Christopher and me in a private place, of his mouth covering mine, of him not holding back anymore. I search for a safe topic, something to take my thoughts out of the gutter. "What are you doing up so late?"
"Unfortunately, work. Issues I didn't get to finish today at the office."
"Sorry for keeping you away from work today."
"Hey, I wouldn't have missed the chance to celebrate with all of you for anything in the world."
I melt a little under the covers, giddy with happiness that we rank on the important part on Christopher's scale.
"Do you like your job?"
"Yeah. Sure, there are days when I get fed up with it, but that's normal."
"Why did you choose the operations side of the business?" I inquire, remembering he's Head of Operations at Bennett Enterprises.
"Funny story. My first internship at the company was in finance. My brother Logan is the CFO, and he took me under his wing, showed me the ropes. During my internship, the head of operations quit, and then two other employees left. They promptly replaced the head with someone else, but the department was in need of more people. As an intern, I became a jack of all trades. Whenever there was something to be fixed, I'd jump in and do it. They gave me the nickname ‘The Fixer.’ I liked it. It was dynamic, always kept me on my toes. Did I bore you to tears yet?"
"Not at all. I love hearing you talk about your job. How did you end up in Hong Kong?"
"We expanded in Asia, and we wanted someone from the family there. Max was in London, and I wanted an adventure so I relocated there."
"Why did you come back?"
He chuckles softly. "I missed my family. I love traveling, but it loses the appeal when you have no one to return home to. My family is big and meddling, and I missed them like crazy."
"That is the sweetest thing I've heard in a long time."
"And you are the first person outside of my family who didn't balk at it. People usually look at me like I've grown a second head when I say it."
"Possibly because I grew up in a big meddling family too. Though I'm starting to think mine isn't half as meddling as yours."
I understand where he's coming from. In college, I was one of the few who was actually ecstatic whenever parents came to visit, and I talked to them on the phone often. Even now in my day-to-day life, I'm always surprised when people seem to go out of their way to avoid their families, or to minimize contact as if the mere existence of an extended family is a chore. I'd give a limb to have my parents back.
"You're one hundred percent right, and to tell you the truth, when I was away, I even missed the meddling," he says.
"As you should. Sometimes it can be very helpful. Sometimes you can end up on a blind date with a douche."
"What?"
"Mom thought I didn't date enough, and that was her attempt to set me up."
"Your mother would have liked my sister Pippa."
"She dabbles in setting people up?"
"Not only dabbles, but she’s also successful. She had a hand in Sebastian’s and Logan's love lives, and Max's too. She's calmed down a notch now, even though I think that's the result of her kids keeping her busy. Every time Pippa questions me about my love life, I'm half expecting to walk into my apartment and find a naked woman in my bed."
"From one to ten, how likely is that to happen?" I ask before I can stop myself, a pit forming inside me as unease coils in my stomach. With a jolt, I recognize this feeling—jealousy. That's when I realize how deep into this I am.
"If I say eleven, does it increase my chances of finding you in my bed?"
"Christopher!" His name comes out of my mouth on a moan, and I hear him suck in a breath at the other end. Instinctively I press my thighs together, a familiar ache already forming between them.
"That came out wrong. I don't just want you in my bed. I want you in my life, Victoria. You're constantly on my mind."
"I don't know what to say."
"Here's a hint. If I'm not constantly on your mind, for the sake of this conversation, pretend I am. There's only so much heartbreak a man can take over the phone.”
His self-deprecating humor paints a smile on my face. He's more man than anyone I’ve dated, and infinitely kinder. Sure, it could all be an act. Men have faked interest in more than getting me in their bed before, and I've fallen for it, but Christopher is different. I can't be that far off base.
"You are on my mind, and I'm not pretending. It's just that after you left my house following your first training session with Lucas, I talked to the kids. Lucas and Chloe are afraid that I'll leave them if I fall in love and… I mean, in their world, dating automatically leads to marriage and children, and they're afraid I'll abandon them if I have my own children."
"Shit, those poor kids," Christopher mutters. "How can I help?"
This unexpected offer warms my heart, and when I speak next, my voice catches. "I don't know that you can. I talked to our therapist, and she says it's an expected reaction in kids after they lose their parents, more so because Lucas and Chloe know they were adopted. They're afraid of being abandoned. But she also said that I'm doing a great job providing them with a safe environment, and that it's important to carry on with my life."
"I didn't know you all see a therapist," he says gently. His voice is like a balm, slipping through the cracks dug by my fears and insecur
ities.
"We started going right after the funeral, and it's helping. I'm trying to do the right thing, but how do I do that when I don't even know what the right thing is?" I take a deep breath, and that's when I realize how much I shared with him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to dump all this on you."
"I'm glad you did. Listen, let's not overthink this. Let's just let the pieces fall in their place."
"You don't strike me as the kind of man who lets things happen. You're the kind who makes them happen."
"It's true. But I hadn't planned on you entering my life, and so far, I've been pleasantly surprised. Besides, who said I won't have a hand in how those chips will fall?"
"What's that hand entailing, Bennett?" I can't help the grin spreading on my face.
"Hot looks, shameless flirting."
Oh my. Considering this man can set my body ablaze even with a regular look, there's nothing safe in store for me.
"Still with me?"
"Yeah," I whisper.
"Proper kissing and showcasing some of my other seduction techniques. Just giving you a heads-up."
I am officially a bundle of desire, waiting to be unwrapped. A shiver runs through me as I imagine Christopher doing just that. Racking my mind, I attempt a witty comeback, but all I come up with is "How generous of you."
"Have a good night Victoria. I certainly will."
Chapter Thirteen
Victoria
Over the next week, I don't meet Christopher again, but we do text a few times a day, and the man is constantly on my mind. I ordered the furniture for all his rooms except the kitchen. Since that one is custom made, it's best to measure it. I have the blueprint of the apartment, of course, but I always like to see the space. For one, because nothing is as inspiring as seeing a new place and imagining all the ways I can transform it into a home. And second, because actual measurements sometimes differ from the plan, and in some spaces, such as the kitchen, I can’t run that risk. Christopher will receive the keys to his apartment on Monday afternoon at four o'clock. My goal is to be there at ten past four to measure the kitchen and then call the store to place the order.
