by Lexi Whitlow
“No,” he says, fixing me with a cold glare. “Nothing I can’t take care of, anyway.”
They walk beside him to the elevator and get in with him when it arrives. I turn to see Sarah standing behind me, her eyes glimmering, and my stomach drops. I’m in for it. But I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Everything inside me was pushing me to defend her, even though I knew she didn’t need me to do it for her. I’ve—I’ve never felt that way about a woman before. This is all new territory for me.
I take a deep breath and steel myself for what’s to come.
What’s to come turns out to be her warm, wet lips against mine, her palms on my cheeks, her breasts pressing into me. Her scent in my nose, making me high like a drug. The tentative applause that breaks out around us is nice, too. We pull apart to acknowledge it and share a cathartic laugh with everyone who was forced to witness the drama.
“Show’s over, everyone,” Sarah giggles. “That’s lunch.”
People begin to file away around us and I feel her hand slip into mine. She pulls me out into the elevator, still smiling. But once the doors close on us, I can feel her hand trembling in mine.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “That was awful.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” I say, stroking her arm. “You were handling him perfectly well on your own. I lost my temper, and I’m sorry about that. I just hope what I did doesn’t blow back on you instead of me.”
“I don’t know if there is a separate you and me when it comes to this. At least not in Darryl’s mind.”
I look into her baby blue eyes. “I’ll stand beside you through anything that comes out of this,” I say. “That’s a promise. We’re officially a team now, Sarah. I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
She pulls me tight and I wrap my arms around her, surrounding her with my body. I feel her lips at my ear.
“It’s so okay you can’t even imagine,” she sighs.
19
Sarah
The chicken and dumplings are almost done by the time Justin arrives at the door, and his eyes close as he walks in and catches the scent.
“Man,” he sighs as he kicks off his shoes. “If I could figure out a way to bottle that smell and turn it into an aerosol spray, I’d make a billion dollars.”
I grin. “That’d go perfectly with your BitScents concept!”
He winces, and I press the advantage. “And it’d be us making the billion dollars, not you. It’s my recipe.”
“You’re absolutely right.” He kisses me. “We’d split it fifty-fifty.”
“Seventy thirty,” I counter. “Anyone can make a spray. Not everyone can make this dish.”
“Stella told me not to push buttons, so seventy-thirty it is.”
“Wow,” I giggle. “Is that how you handle all your billion-dollar deals?”
He tilts his head and smiles, his dreamy grey eyes locked on mine.
“Just the ones where I stand to gain everything.”
I took the afternoon off from work, but not to make Justin’s dinner. I didn’t want the people at the office to know how rattled I was by my encounter with Darryl. The rest of the Gang called me at various points to ask me how I was doing, tell me they would have kicked Darryl in the balls if they’d been there (Jenna, of course), and to generally let me know that they had my back and were on top of things. I thanked them all, managed to keep from losing it, and went on with my day. They’re all I’ve ever needed to clear the hurdles I’ve run into in my life.
But now that Justin is here, looking into my eyes, I have to admit to myself that it wasn’t just Darryl’s insults that shook me. It was how I reacted when Justin came to my rescue. I should have cursed him out, told him that I was more than capable of handling the situation on my own. I didn’t build PinkBook from nothing without being able to deal with adversity.
And yet all I could do after he handed over Darryl to security was kiss him. And it felt so good.
So good it almost scares me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“It’s… yeah, everything’s great. Let’s eat.” I flash him a leering look. “We need to get some fuel in us for later on.”
Great, Sarah, way to deflect how you feel by trying to make it about sex.
He smiles, but not in the wolfish way he usually does, and I can’t help but wonder whether both of us are heading into uncharted waters.
We keep the conversation light through dinner—just small talk, of which I contribute the lion’s share because Justin’s mouth is almost constantly full—and then stretch out on the sofa with a glass of wine. He pats his abdomen as if it’s Santa’s belly and not the iron grid that it really is.
“Whoof. You keep making that stuff for me and I’ll have to move in, because I won’t be able to fit through the door.”
My tummy flutters. Move in. I know he’s joking, but the thought gives me a little thrill anyway. It’s times like this that make me wonder just how far I’ve really come from that Amish girl shucking corn on the porch. Even then, I didn’t believe I’d ever need a man for anything. But now, to quote a line I hear at least once in every sales meeting, this is where the rubber meets the road, and I think maybe, just maybe, I do need one. Especially if that one is Justin Benjamin Lucas.
It scares me and exhilarates me at the same time. I’ve never sky-dived before, but I imagine this feels a lot like that.
“I had to fill myself up,” he says. “I highly doubt I’ll be able to scare up any pot roast out in the Nigerian oil fields this week.”
“Is Charlie flying you?”
“He’ll pilot the Gulfstream to London, but I’ll be going commercial from there to Abuja. I wish I knew how long I’ll be gone, but I’ve never taken over a derelict refinery before. Don’t worry, thought, I’ll stay in touch.” He seems surprised by what he just said, because he quickly adds: “Not that you need me for anything. You can handle whatever comes up.”
We sit there in awkward silence for a moment, and I screw up my courage. It’s time.
“So,” I say, propping my feet on his outstretched legs. “We really should talk about what happened today with Darryl.”
“I thought we did that at lunch. We decided you need to keep an eye on his movements and that I should do what I can to speed up my takeover of his company.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” I take a deep breath. “I mean when you stood up for me.”
His face droops a bit. “Damn,” he mutters. “I was hoping you’d just let me get away with that. All right, let me have it.”
“Have what?”
“I know I should have let you handle it. You don’t need a white knight to rush in and save you, or a big brother to fight your battles for you. I reacted without thinking, and I apologize for that.”
“That’s not what I was going to say, but I’m glad you said it. Believe it or not, I like that you reacted without thinking.”
He blinks. “You do?”
“Mm-hm. It made me feel… safe.”
My heart is galloping now. I’m dangerously close to saying things that I can’t take back, and I pray it doesn’t make him run out the door.
“I’ll always keep you safe,” he says. “You should know that by now.”
“But it’s not just that. I’ve got friends who have my back; what you did today was something different. You saw something being threatened… something that belonged to you.” I swallow hard. “Or am I reading this wrong.”
His cheeks flush a tiny bit, and I realize I’ve put him on the spot. But that’s my nature: I don’t pussyfoot around, and neither does he. We both need to put our cards on the table if we’re going to keep going with this.
“You’re not wrong,” he says. “I couldn’t actually put it into words until you just said it, but that’s exactly how I felt. It came from my gut, not my brain.”
I lift feet off his legs and position myself so that I’m sitting across his lap, my arms around his neck. He strokes my back with
his fingertips, sending delicious shivers down my spine.
“Maybe the two of us use our brains too much,” I say. “And I don’t mean we need to use our bodies more.”
He grins. “But you don’t mean using them any less, right?”
“Don’t do that,” I whisper.
His eyes drop. “I’m sorry. I make jokes when I’m nervous. It’s just that… this has never happened to me before, Sarah. I’ve never felt like this with a woman, and I don’t know what to do.”
I lace my fingers behind his neck and pull his face to mine.
“I’ve never felt like this with a man before,” I whisper. “And I don’t know what to do, either. But maybe, if we’re a team like you said this afternoon, we can figure things out together.”
I kiss him passionately, and he returns it—at first. But then he pulls away.
“I just don’t want to disappoint you,” he says. “I want to be the guy you need. But I don’t know if I can. You know my early years weren’t exactly normal—”
“And mine were?” I ask with a smile.
He returns the grin. “Point taken. But you also know that I’m extremely driven and I’m used to getting my own way. I don’t take direction very well.”
“You realize you just described me, too, right?”
“That’s exactly what I mean: what if we just end up fighting all the time because neither of us is willing to give an inch?”
I kiss him again. “What if we don’t? What if we both learn to give a little and lose a bit of our control, and the world doesn’t actually come crashing down around us? I don’t want to disappoint you either, Justin. But if that’s the risk I have to take to be with you, then I’m willing to take it. Because I want us to work.” I put my lips to his ear. “I… I think I need us to work.”
My pulse is racing as I wait for him to speak. This is it: everything is on the line. His breath is hot against my cheek for several long moments before he finally answers.
“I need that, too,” he says. “I’ve never wanted anything the way I want you. Not money, not power—nothing.”
“Good.” Hot tears leak from the corners of my eyes and stream down my face. “Because I’m not going to settle for anything less.”
Our faces turn to each other again, and I see a rawness in his eyes that’s new to me. He’s open now, and I’m seeing him for all he is. And he’s seeing me the same way. Both of us have finally shed our armor.
And I bet he’s just as scared as I am.
Our lips meet again, softly, warmly, with a new sweetness it seems. The sensation mixes in my senses with the aroma of the food and the feeling of him against me to create a new sense memory for me: home. Not my house, but my home—this feeling, right here, right now—and I want it to be that way forever.
Justin stands silently and lifts me along with him. I wrap my arms around his neck as he pads from the living room to the bedroom and lowers me gently onto the duvet. We don’t need to say anything right now; this is beyond words.
He lowers himself onto the bed so that he’s above me, and my fingers undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one, as we share a leisurely kiss. Our usual sense of urgency isn’t there this time. Not gone, exactly, but different. As if we have all the time in the world. He shrugs out of his shirt and pulls mine over my head, then brings his mouth down to my throat. I shiver with anticipation, feeling the warmth between my legs, but not the animal need that’s accompanied it so often in the past. This is more like a tickle of anticipation, of knowing that I’ll enjoy what’s to come, like Christmas morning.
We slowly strip each other, taking our time, kissing and stroking, nothing in my mind except him and how I feel. The day melts away and leaves only pleasure behind, and my heart soars at the thought of reaching a new level in our intimacy.
“Lucas,” I sigh. “Baby, I want to feel you inside me.”
He pulls me close and kisses me deep and hard, but tenderly. When he pulls away, his eyes bore into my very soul.
“I want to be inside you,” he whispers. “More than anything else in this world.”
There’s no need for our usual athletics, no foreplay—I’m more than ready to take him in already, and when he enters me, I shake just a little bit with the first warning shot of the orgasm that will surely arrive soon.
His head tilts back and he lets out a throaty moan that’s pleasure personified. Our sex is always so powerful, as if we’re in competition with each other, but not this time. This time it’s about connection, about being as close as two people can be.
He lays me back on the bed and props himself on his elbows, so that our noses can touch and his heart can beat against my breast as he begins to thrust. The smell of his sweet breath and the secret musk of his scent mingle in my nose until I feel as if I’m somewhere else, just he and I, floating in our own private universe.
We begin to move in time with each other, slowly building, building, until I feel like a wave is starting at my feet and crashing its way all up my body. Justin grips my hands over my head in his as he thrusts one final time. His lips are on my ear: “Sarah,” he breathes. “My everything.”
My body begins to shake as my consciousness seems to float out of my body and disappear into a cloud of joy.
We collapse on each other and lie there, entangled, skin sticking to skin, until we fall asleep.
We awake in each other’s arms the next morning, and do it all over again.
20
Justin
I can’t make out what you’re saying.” I crank the volume up on the phone as high as it can go. “Can you just email it to me?”
All I get back is garble, so I sigh and thumb it off. Beside me, Akeeb Lawani offers a sheepish shrug.
“I must apologize,” he says in his unique mix of accents. He grew up here in Nigeria speaking English and Igbo, but went to finishing school in Belgium. “The reception here is less than ideal. By which I mean terrible.”
I chuckle and slip the phone into the pocket of my slacks. “Not a problem. It was just my partner, Nathan. Hopefully he heard me ask him to send an email. We should be able to pick it up on a hard-wired computer here, yes?”
“One would hope,” he sighs. “But as you can see, nothing has been maintained very well here. That is, of course, why it’s being sold at such a discount.”
The refinery is actually in better shape than I had any hope to believe it would be, given the price. The consultants I hired from Japan agree, and have all but said I’d be a fool to pass it up, given what it’s components could go for on the open market right now. Akeeb, the agent for the National Petroleum Ministry, has been tasked with selling it off to the highest bidder as part of a government effort to modernize the country’s refineries and get rid of the ones they consider not worth the effort.
But there’s something about his demeanor that’s itching my curiosity. He seems almost… I don’t know. Nostalgic?
“Do you have a connection to this place?” I ask as we stroll through the corridors back to the deserted office that had once served as the control room. The place is dusty as a ghost town and every sound echoes through the empty halls.
He raises an eyebrow. “You are as astute as I have heard, Mr. Lucas.”
“Call me Justin.”
He nods. “You are correct. I grew up less than twenty miles from here. I had many uncles and cousins who worked at this refinery over the years. Its loss was a heavy blow to the economy here, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
His words conjure up images of the people who might have once roamed these halls. Refining is hard work, especially in Nigeria’s climate, but it’s an honest job and probably paid better than anything else that didn’t require an education. Most of the people who worked here probably fought for everything they got from life. I can relate.
The thought sparks a crazy question that I suddenly want answered.
“Akeeb, is the government interested in allowing foreign ownership of these refineries?�
�
His eyebrows go up. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“What if someone were to buy this place and get it running again? Is there a government policy against that?”
“At the risk of pointing out the obvious, Justin, that would cost much more than simply buying it and dismantling it.”
“It would cost me, yes, but the government gets the same price either way. I’m just curious if they would have a problem with competition outside the government-controlled system.”
We take a seat at a table and Akeeb pulls his laptop from his briefcase. A blue cable under the table connects him to the refinery’s ancient modem.
“Nigeria’s petroleum industry is in flux right now,” he says. “There have been many allegations of corruption in the system, but billions of dollars have been earmarked for modernization. In such an environment, I would think there is room for negotiation. That is, if someone was interested in doing so, which I can’t imagine.”
I grin. “Thanks, I appreciate it. Do you mind if I use your laptop to access my email? There’s no wi-fi here to connect my phone, and my laptop is back in the city.
“Of course.”
He turns it to face me and I connect through my encrypted web server. Let’s see what Nathan was so wound up about—
Oh, shit. Oh, shit.
“Is something wrong, Justin?” Akeeb looks at me, alarmed.
There’s a colossal problem. Nathan was trying to warn me about a story that broke in the New York Times yesterday that broke this morning accusing me of being the vulture who was trying to destabilize PinkBook. The story quotes an inside source saying that I was behind the data breach, and that I got close to Sarah so that I could scavenge the company straight from the top. This is Darryl Lawrence’s doing, I know it! Of all the times for me to be in the middle of nowhere and not be able to communicate!
I check my watch—it’s 2:30 a.m. back home, and Sarah turns her phone off at night, so there’s no way I can reach her right now. Goddamn it! And my cell’s reception was practically non-existent for most of yesterday, so she had to spend an entire day dealing with this!
