by Cassie Cross
She moves forward and wraps me up in her arms, running her fingers through my hair as she rocks her hips, her orgasm coming on fast. I moan when she clenches around me; watching her made me forget just how close I am, too.
“Jesse,” she says, giving my hair a tug. “I need…”
I smile before I place a kiss right over her heart. We might not have been together long, but I’m pretty in tune with her body. I know exactly what she needs.
I reach down and rub short, hard circles on her clit. She lets out a gasp, hips stuttering as she loses her rhythm. It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to come while she takes pleasure in my body, but it helps having something to focus on other than myself.
“Come on, Lex.” I whisper right in her ear, my lips brushing against the shell of it. “I’ve got you, come on.”
She moans as she climaxes, pulling me in, and I bury myself deep inside her as my orgasm washes over me.
I lay back against the couch cushions, a thin sheet of sweat on my skin. Alexa wipes a few strands of hair off my brow, and gives me a look so full of contentment that it nearly undoes me.
Once I catch my breath, I lift her up. She wraps her legs around my waist.
“Where are we going?”
“To bed,” I say, walking us down the hall to her room. “You said we had all night, and we need to rest up for round two.”
In the warmth of her bed, Alexa curls herself around me like I’m her own personal pillow.
Her breathing evens out, and I think she’s asleep when she says, “Thank you.”
It’s so quiet I’m not even sure she knows she’s said anything, then she looks up and into my eyes.
“Thank you for staying with me. Earlier, when my mom called.”
It’s nothing that even requires any thanks, it’s what any boyfriend worth his salt would do for the woman he’s falling in love with. And I know I’ve made her question me, so I’m going to do whatever I can to make sure that never happens again.
I cup her face and kiss her. “I’m here for you whenever you need me.”
I say it like a vow. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.
“I know that,” she replies, squeezing me tighter. “I know.”
21
Alexa
Marin sits on the floor in front of my coffee table, which is stacked high with file folders. A cup full of steaming hot coffee balances precariously on top of one of our proposals.
“I’m going to miss this when we move into our new office,” Marin says, crossing her legs as she pops a torn-off piece of bagel into her mouth.
I take the cup and put it on the table, on a coaster where it belongs. “My furniture isn’t going to miss it.”
Marin playfully rolls her eyes. “Hey,” she replies with a smile. “Have I ever spilled?”
She has never spilled, a fact that I begrudgingly acknowledge.
“You’re always glaring at me and my beverages, but I’m not the one who has trouble keeping my caffeine in its cup.”
I suppose she’s right. I’ve ruined too many shirts with my morning espresso to have a leg to stand on here.
“Oh, good news.” Marin takes a sip of her coffee and puts it back on the coaster. Bless her for respecting my furniture neuroses. “I talked to Skipper. She’s gonna let us use the house for events.”
My stomach practically plummets to the floor and back into my throat thanks to my excitement. Marin’s grandmother—affectionately referred to as Skipper by everyone who loves her, which is…everyone—owns a beautiful property in Northern Virginia, right on a small lake. Skipper is loaded thanks to generations of wealth passed down to her, and her home is to die for. I’ve imagined the kinds of weddings and parties I’d plan there if we ever got the chance.
I never thought we’d get the chance. I could cry.
“I see that euphoria you’re trying to hide,” Marin teases. “The rates are going to be astronomical. She has a construction crew there doing improvements as we speak.”
“I don’t care how much it is,” I say, having to remind myself to breathe. “Anyone who would want that place would be willing to pay it. Oh my god, I’m so excited. Do you know what a draw this’ll be? She’ll give it to us exclusively, right?” Skipper spends most of her weekends at her penthouse in New York anyway, the house is usually empty save for the staff.
Marin doesn’t look nearly as excited as I feel, which is unusual considering this is great for business.
“Why are you making that face?”
“There’s a catch.”
Excitement? Gone. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” she replies nervously. “She asked me to come over tomorrow to talk to me about it. She said she’s gonna make me an offer I can’t refuse.”
That makes me laugh. “Is she the Godfather now?”
Marin cracks a smile, but her nervousness is written all over her face. Like me, Marin went against her family’s expectations to start this business. Unlike me, she has a last name and a legacy to live up to, and more than a few people who wouldn’t mind watching her fail.
Skipper’s never been one of those people; she’s always been in Marin’s corner.
“I know this isn’t going to do much to calm your nerves, but Skipper loves you. She wants this business to succeed. She invested in it. She’s not going to drop a bomb on you tomorrow.”
“I know that logically.”
I nod. “I get it. Just think about all the hot construction workers you’ll get to see tomorrow. Maybe you’ll run into a shirtless, sweaty hunk who wants to show you how to use his hammer.” I waggle my eyebrows at her suggestively and that finally gets her to laugh.
“Depending on how things go, I might come back here grumpy.”
“I’ll take you grumpy,” I say, patting her hand. “I’ll keep you well stocked in chocolate chip cookies.”
Staring out at the road below our new office, Jesse’s footsteps echo off the walls as he walks across the empty space to where I’m standing in the back. He’s accompanied by the amazing smell of my favorite Thai takeout.
The plastic bag rustles as he drops it on my desk, one of only two pieces of furniture in here at the moment. The other is Marin’s desk, which is on the opposite side of the makeshift glass partition that temporarily separates our offices until we can get something more permanent brought in.
Jesse wraps his arms around my waist, then kisses my neck. I rest my hand on my cheek, and we both melt into each other, forgetting the stress of the day.
“My favorite guy with my favorite food,” I tease as the hair on the top of his head tickles my cheek. “What did I do to get so lucky?
“I missed you,” he says, standing up and turning me into his warm embrace.
“I missed you, too.” He’s on the tail end of another project, and the promise of getting to see each other more often is hanging in the air. For now it’s just the occasional lunch and dinner breaks, with Jesse crawling into bed with me a few hours before I have to wake up and start my day.
“Love what you’ve done with the place.”
“At least we have some furniture now,” I reply, looking at the shiny white desk behind me, then over at Marin’s.
“We’ll have to christen it.” He grins before he kisses me.
It’s a promising idea, but, “Mine only. Marin would kill me if she ever found out we had sex on her desk.”
Jesse pouts, and the only choice I have is to kiss it off of him. When we part, Jesse looks around our office. “I hate that partition,” he says, pointing at the glass. “It makes mid-day quickies impossible.”
“The sacrifices of a small business owner,” I tease. “Guess that gives me more motivation to level up so we can get a better office space. For mid-day quickies, of course.”
“It’s always good to have inspiration.” Jesse takes a look around the space, his expression getting serious. “You really did it.”
I did. We did, Marin and
I. Having our own office space was the first marker of success I drafted out in my notebook when I had the crazy idea to start this business, and here we are.
“I love you,” Jesse says. “I’m so proud of you.”
I grin, because I’m proud of us, too. But I’m not the only one who’s made huge strides since we met. Jesse has too, both personally and professionally.
“I love you,” I reply with a smile. “And I’m proud of you.”
Hayley let slip the other day that Hunter is looking to expand the business, and he’s thinking about asking Jesse if he wants to be a partner.
“We’ve come a long way,” he tells me.
With a kiss, I say, “Yeah.” Then my stomach grumbles, breaking the moment.
Jesse chuckles, then turns and opens the take out bag. He wraps my chopsticks in a couple of napkins, then takes the top off my container of Pad See Ew before he hands it over.
I sit on the desk, and once he’s ready to eat, he sits next to me.
We eat together as I talk about my plans for the office. Jesse’s uncharacteristically quiet, though.
“Something on your mind?” I ask. I expect him to brush it off and assure me that no, there isn’t. But he doesn’t do that. He just shrugs and turns, propping his knee up on the desk so he faces me. “Yeah, actually.”
My heart trips over itself until it’s slamming into my ribcage double-time.
“What is it?”
He smiles. “Real estate.”
I don’t follow. I’m racking my brain to figure out what he’s talking about and…nothing. Does not compute.
Jesse takes what’s left of my food and puts it down on the desk before he takes both of my hands in his. This is a good sign, even though I don’t know why. It settles me a little.
“Your lease is up soon and so is mine. A lot of good things are happening. We’re good—”
“We’re great,” I interrupt.
He laughs and kisses the back of my hand. “We’re great. I was thinking it might be the right time to move in together.”
There goes my heart again, but this time for the best reasons. I’ve been wanting to broach the subject, but I’ve been nervous about it. Not that I needed to be, obviously.
“Yeah?”
He shifts, then gives me a nervous grin. “Yeah. I know I work awful hours sometimes, but I want to keep coming home to you. Somewhere that’s ours.”
I wasn’t sure we’d ever get here, but now that we are it feels better than I ever could’ve imagined.
I just lean over and kiss him.
“Is that a yes?” he asks, smiling against my lips.
“It’s an enthusiastic yes,” I reply, nodding.
We’re both grinning and kissing, and it’s a total mess, but I can’t keep my hands off of him.
We get a little carried away, and before I know it, Jesse’s tie is flung across the desk and his shirt is a crumpled mess on the floor. I’m sitting on my desk with my dress rucked up around my waist, Jesse kissing that spot behind my ear that makes me a little nuts.
A loud bang from the loading dock across the street sets Jesse on edge, and he looks over at the window, squinting against the sunlight streaming in. “You need to get some curtains.”
I rest my hand on his cheek, and turn his head until he’s focused on me. “Maybe,” I reply, wrapping my fingers around his belt and pulling him closer. “I’ll probably get some eventually. But right now? All I need is you.”
A year ago, if someone had told me that I would be spending a Friday night in an airport trying to pick up a guy, I would’ve laughed in their face.
A year ago I was still with Ethan.
Back then I would’ve thought that I would be getting married this weekend, not traveling across the country to my best friend Gabby’s wedding. But Ethan had other plans, like fucking some random chick he met at happy hour on my 1,000 thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets. He thought I was working late. I came home early.
Surprise!
Ethan is the reason I don’t work late anymore. He’s also the reason I promised myself that I wouldn’t fall in love again. I’d be crazy to open myself up to that kind of heartbreak again, right?
Staying out of the dating game is easy, but I would be lying if I said that I don’t miss the scratch of Ethan’s stubble on my face when he kissed me, or that I don’t long for the feeling of his weight on top of me when we were in bed. I suppose that’s why I’m at a bar in the middle of Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport, sipping on a cocktail and sitting next to the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
We’ve been talking for half an hour, both of us waiting out a line of storms that have delayed every outbound plane in the area. I’ve booked a seat on a flight leaving first thing in the morning, and there’s a room waiting for me in the hotel that’s attached to the terminal. I should go up there and get some sleep, or finish one of the many projects that I have going on right now. But there’s something about this man that makes me want to stay right where I am. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly nice to look at.
I don’t even know his name, but I like the velvety look of his close-cropped light brown hair and the sexy ruggedness of the couple of days’ worth of stubble on his face. I like the cool depths of his bright blue eyes and the infectiousness of his smile. I want him, there’s no doubt about it. I want to see him naked at some point this evening, but I’m completely unpracticed in the art of the one-night stand. I have no idea how to be even remotely sexy, but I’m flirting with him shamelessly. And he’s flirting back.
“What happened here?” I ask, tracing the long, jagged scar that stretches out a few inches below his thumb. His skin feels electric beneath my fingers and when I touch him, he looks at me like he never wants me to stop. Unless my raging hormones are making me imagine that, which is entirely possible.
“This?” he asks, leaning in closer as he twists his wrist. “I was rappelling down the side of a cliff and my harness slipped. I reached out for leverage and cut myself.”
“Rappelling?”
He grins. “Yeah, it’s when you descend from a rock face using ropes and-”
“I know what rappelling is,” I say, laughing. “I just thought that you were trying to impress me.” I want to rappel him. Start at his head and work my way down, down, down.
“I am trying to impress you, but that’s actually what happened.” He looks down at what’s left of the beer in his glass, and then he slides to his right a little, until his arm is touching mine. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Any impressive scars?” He smiles again, and its imperfection is endearing. His bottom lip is a little fuller than the top, and one of his front teeth is just the tiniest bit out of alignment with the rest. I’m pretty sure he knows how charming that smile is and the effect that it has on women. He’s using it to his advantage tonight.
“Nothing really impressive, but I do have this,” I tell him, pointing at my chin.
He slides his fingers along the underside of my jaw and tilts my head up so he can get a better look. The pad of his thumb grazes my scar, and I shiver. I hope he doesn’t notice the way my breath catches when he touches me. I don’t want to come off as desperate for him as I actually am.
“What’s the story?”
“It’s not even remotely cool as rappelling,” I say. He looks at me expectantly. “I was at Girl Scout camp when I was, I don’t know…seven maybe? It was my troop’s turn to clean up the mess hall, and we were all running around and acting stupid. One of the girls started chasing me and I tripped, fell, and hit the edge of a bench.”
He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth as he grimaces.
“Ouch. I guess you’re not good in situations where fleeing is required?”
“I generally avoid situations where fleeing is required, actually. I’m small, so I guess I could always hope that someone would take pity on me and pick me up to expedite the fleeing process and lim
it the amount of damage I could do to myself while running.” I’m talking way too much, but I just can’t seem to help myself.
“I’d pick you up, but it wouldn’t be out of pity.” There’s a mischievous look in his eyes that makes me want to wrap my body around his, and I’m beginning to get a sense that the two of us might have the same endgame in mind.
“So,” he says, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans. “Are you going to tell me your name?”
For a split second I consider making one up, but even though he’s a complete stranger, it feels wrong to want to lie to him.
“Callie. My name is Callie.”
“Short for…” He draws out the ‘r’ as he searches for a name to guess. “Calliope?” He seems really proud of himself for thinking of another name, and it’s disarmingly cute.
“Good guess,” I tell him. “It’s Callista. And your name is?”
“Nate.”
“Short for…Michael?” It’s an idiotic thing to say, but he laughs anyway.
“It’s nice to meet you, Callie.” My name sounds like heaven when he says it, and he takes my hand in his. His palm is a little rough, and I imagine what it would feel like sliding across the small of my back.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I say. For a very brief moment, I think about asking him where he’s headed, but I decide against it. One-night stands aren’t supposed to get invested, and I don’t even want to know the slightest bit about his personal life, including where he’s from or where he’s going. I wish there was a way for me to turn off my mind and think with my vagina. Sex should be easy, but my brain has a way of complicating things.
“I was pissed when my flight got canceled, but now…” Nate says, looking down at our fingers which are loosely entwined. Somewhere in the back of my head I know that he’s playing me, but I don’t care. I just really don’t care.
