In my Arms Tonight (NYC Singles Book 2)

by Sasha Clinton

  Accepting him into her arms, she cocooned him against her body and felt his weight shift onto her. She couldn’t describe how good it felt to glide against his skin in this moment, to have his rock-solid body firmly against hers.

  “I still want to be with you.” she said, and every molecule in her body was in agreement.

  “Don’t just say it so easily. Think about it,” he scolded, snickering.

  The beautiful ring of his laughter reignited her slumbering desire. Now they had all the heaviness out of the way, her mind was as relaxed and receptive to merge with him as her body.

  “It doesn’t matter, Alex. I’m not going to hold something that happened three decades ago against you. You didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t rape anyone. You didn’t steal or harm anyone. What you did do was tell me the truth and I’m not going to leave you for telling me the truth.”

  Alex’s breathing died for a second. “Aren’t you scared of me now?” When he spoke, his voice was unduly gravelly.

  “Scared?” If she was less damp between her legs, she’d have had a good, long laugh. But since she didn’t want to spend precious time laughing when she could be doing much better things, she shook her head instead.

  “With my history, I wouldn’t fault you for assuming that I still harbored violent tendencies—”

  “Shhhh. Leave the past in the past.” Kat stuck her finger in front of his lips. “All we have is now. And I want you now. Right now. Inside me.”

  This intimacy, this magical closeness was too special to lose. She wanted to seal this with an even more intimate act.

  “Kat—”

  She almost came apart when his lips fluttered against her finger. Call it the trusting connection that his confession had created, but something was different about the atmosphere around them.

  Swiftly, Kat freed herself from the clothing she had on, until she was completely naked. Usually, she was confident about her body but today she felt vulnerable.

  “I want you now, Alex,” she repeated, guiding his fingers down to the moist heat of her flesh so he’d stop talking and get started. “I want the bad boy and the brilliant policymaker. I want all of you. All your past, present and future. Just do it, honey. Please don’t make me wait.”

  Please. She’d just said please. Somebody was seriously rubbing off on her.

  Alex’s Adam’s apple bobbed up, tension making the veins on his hands stick up. She was so drunk on hormones that even the veins rising up from his skin looked sexy. Bringing his arm towards her, Kat teased the hair-smattered skin with strokes of her tongue, drawing in the woody, slightly salty taste of him, the raised bumps of his skin, the roughness of his hair.

  Heat darkened his gaze. His thumb pad brushed over her clit. Kat couldn’t stop herself from crying out, because the sensations spiraling through her were so liberating.

  He gave it to her, delicious stroke after delicious stroke, letting her work herself up to a peak before sneaking a finger inside her, then two. He wriggled, then curved them towards her G-spot, hitting it with precision and carving his touch inside her body.

  Her breath hitched and her throat went dry as the Sahara. Writhing to release what was starting to build up inside her, Kat knocked over the lamp on her bedside. The crash of it tipping to the ground faded out of her memory. Alex didn’t notice it, either, as caught up in her as he was.

  Alex’s thigh pushed into the space between her parted legs. Sliding a hand under her butt, he raised her up and circled her pussy with his tongue, flicking, then laying his tongue flat.

  The sensations sparked by him wrapped her like a blanket on a winter’s day, pouring heat into her in streams. Her skin warmed then a light flush sprang onto it.

  “Alex, we should move on,” she urged breathlessly, the rhythm of her breath torn by the intensification of her arousal.

  After they were done today, she’d have to talk to him about his need for excessive foreplay. Frankly, all she needed was one hot, dark gaze from him to have her wet and ready.

  She was on all fours when he grabbed a condom, sheathed himself and pressed his erection into her from behind, penetrating her deeper and reaching that deep, vulnerable part inside her body. Feeling exposed somehow didn’t matter so much anymore.

  Alex sank deeper into her, pulling out before going even deeper, until she felt the inevitable climax shake her.

  Everything blurred—the room, the lights, the sounds, Alex, the boundaries of her body—then everything became unbelievably clear.

  Alex wasn’t just a guy who was giving her an orgasm. He was much more. So much more, she didn’t want to admit it.

  Her brain threw around lofty words like ‘love,’ which froze her blood.

  She couldn’t fall in love. Not with him, not with anyone.

  Love hazed her brain. It made her forget the things that were truly important to her. She didn’t know what stupid things she might end up doing in the name of love.

  The last time she’d fallen in love, with Michael, everything had spun out of control faster than she could sneeze. She’d started compromising on her values, forgetting her dreams. She’d adopted a religion. She’d started dressing like a Beverly Hills socialite. She’d started Googling names for the two point five children she didn’t want to have. She’d tried to resign herself to a life of suburban houses, white picket fences, household chores and PTA meetings.

  The worst had come the day she’d resigned from her staff writer position at the NYT so she could move to LA with Michael and fulfil his dreams of having the perfect family, all while killing the dreams she’d been dreaming since childhood.

  Thankfully, Bella had made her come to her senses and realize that she didn’t want a single one of the things Michael wanted. What she wanted was to write for a long, long time.

  Her feeling for Alex were already so much stronger than her feelings for Michael had ever been. All he had to do was to ask and before she knew it, she’d be packing her bags for DC and trying to mold herself into the perfect political wife. She’d start organizing fundraisers and food banks and master the art of fading into the background.

  Alex ironed out the tension in her forehead with his fingers. “What’re you worrying about?”

  “A deadline,” Kat lied, not wanting to reveal her far-fetched nightmares for the future.

  “I didn’t know you had to work. Should I leave?” Alex was bothered.

  “It’s not due until tomorrow afternoon. I have time,” Kat replied, falling on her back.

  “If I’m making a nuisance of myself anytime, let me know,” Alex said.

  “I will.”

  She laid her head on his chest quietly and meditated to his heartbeat.

  For tonight, she was content to sink a little deeper into Alex and bask in his warmth without stressing about all the strings that came attached with something like love.

  The air was shot with the smell of something sweet when Kat woke up the next morning. Tossing about, she kicked the sheets. The bed was empty. She didn’t remember it being empty.

  Letting her eyes open slowly, she grew aware of Alex’s absence. He wasn’t next to her and she was pretty sure they’d gone to sleep holding each other.

  Worried, Kat sprang to her feet and surveyed the room. There wasn’t a single trace of anyone having been here. Everything was as it had been before she’d gone to sleep.

  Doubt filled her. Had last night been a dream? Had he never been here, never kissed her, never told her the truth, never held her?

  Pulse skittering, Kat forgot about brushing her teeth and tottered to the living room.

  “Hey, you’re up. Good morning,” Alex greeted her, flipping over a pancake in her kitchen. He was the portrait of domesticity in her yellow apron, and a sneaky smile touched her lips.

  Secret fantasy number one—a man who can cook—fulfilled.

  “Good morning.” Kat shuffled to him and slung her arms over his shoulders. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I slept gre
at, thanks to all the amorous exercise we did last night. Got up feeling ravenous, so I decided to make use of your kitchen. You don’t mind, do you?” Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his swoon-worthy arms, he briefly turned his attention to the news.

  “Not at all. Consider it yours.”

  He slid a cup of coffee her way, across the counter.

  “You have a coffee maker, so I figured you drink coffee.”

  Holding up the cup in the air, Kat gave a little nod. “I appreciate you doing this.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  She sipped the hot brew slowly. The warmth snaked its way to her brain and booted it up. She loved her morning cup of coffee so much.

  With her bare legs dangling from the kitchen counter she was perched on, Kat became engrossed in the news, too.

  “Talks to end civil war in Syria are expected to start on Friday,” Fox News’ newscaster articulated in her nasal tone. “The United Nations special envoy for Syria confirmed that it received a positive response from the Syrian government and the groups that were invited to attend the talks aimed at ending the civil war in Syria. The civil war, which began in March 2011, has already claimed the lives of more than two hundred and fifty thousand—”

  “Let’s hope this actually helps the situation over there.” Alex sniffed.

  “I don’t think talks are going to lead to anything. They’ve been talking and talking for years now. We need stronger action.” Kat voiced her opinion.

  Drizzling maple syrup on a stack of pancakes, Alex said, “I think the talks will eventually get through to them.”

  Kat gargled with the coffee in her mouth. “This is why I can never vote for you. You’re too soft.”

  “Politics is all about diplomacy, baby,” Alex drawled. “But we’ll have to talk about you not voting for me.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m voting for whoever I want to vote for. Just because we’re seeing each other doesn’t mean I’m going to let my opinions and decisions be influenced by you.” Kat plucked out forks, knives and spoons from the drawer and laid them out on the simple wooden table in the kitchen in anticipation of breakfast.

  The moment the cutlery was out of her hands, Alex pinned her to the kitchen counter. “Which one of my policies is making you so angry, darling?”

  “You already know which one it is.” Her stare didn’t waver.

  He gave an exasperated grunt. “Are we going to let a potential tax come between us?”

  Kat’s nose caught the whiff of something burning. Over Alex’s shoulder, she spotted smoke from the stove. “Better check that. I don’t want the fire department at my house.”

  He turned the stove off. “Forget about the pancake for a minute. We have more serious issues to deal with here. I’m having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that my girlfriend doesn’t want to vote for me. What kind of candidate does that make me?”

  “A polarizing one.” Kat tossed away the burnt pancake in the trash. “And for the record, you have a very opinionated and politically critical girlfriend, so you can’t expect unconditional support on the political front.”

  He raked his fingers through his scalp. “This is important to me, Kat. You’re important to me. I want to know why I’ve disappointed you as a candidate.”

  “You haven’t disappointed me, Alex. It’s just that we have different views on how the city should be managed. We can’t agree on everything. Accept that we are two different people with divergent political opinions.”

  “Fine.” Alex didn’t look happy about having to give in. “I’ll accept that you’re not going to vote for me. But if you go and vote for Stephanopoulos, I’m going to be pissed.”

  Kat slapped her wrist on a cabinet. “You need to separate politics from your personal life, honey.”

  “I can’t. That’s my biggest problem,” Alex admitted, scraping whatever batter remained at the bottom of the mixing bowl. “My second problem is that I’ve run out of pancake mix.”

  “Don’t stress over it. I usually have oatmeal in the morning, anyway.” Kat caught her reflection on the brown surface of the coffee. Her face glowed with an ethereal radiance, even though she had the worst case of bed hair.

  Alex put the plate of pancakes on the table and scrutinized them. “We could split them in half.”

  “No, thanks. I’m okay without the refined carbs.”

  Alex raised his nose in the air. “Your loss.”

  Kat procrastinated on brushing her teeth by sitting with him and commenting on the news. As expected, they argued about a lot of things, but she liked arguing with him. He was such a sore loser, which made for a lot of funny moments. The discussion shifted to her job and her plans for Christmas and it struck her that she was already thinking of including him in her plans.

  Keira had been pestering her to have Alex over for dinner at her parents’ house and Kat wanted to see how he’d react to her family.

  “Alex, do you mind having dinner with my family later this month?” She expected him to resist meeting her parents, but he agreed easily, then fed her pieces of pancake.

  Overcoming her inbuilt resistance to carbs, she ate them, hanging onto his devoted eyes.

  The phrase ‘domestic bliss’ must’ve been coined to describe this situation. This was their Saturday morning—TV droning in the backdrop, breakfasting leisurely, enjoying each other’s company.

  Although her independent self rebelled at the admission, Alex filled up some deep need inside her. Some need she hadn’t even known existed until now. Maybe he’d created that need in her.

  When the clock struck noon, she’d still not brushed her teeth.

  On Thursday the security in his apartment building called Alex to let him know that there was a young woman to see him.

  He wasn’t expecting anybody at nine pm, but after the steamy phone conversation he’d shared with Kat a few hours ago, he wouldn’t blame her if she showed up.

  He bounced up when the bell rang, but the face he saw was one he didn’t recognize.

  A young girl in capri leggings and a tank top smiled at him. He couldn’t identify her. The muscular structure of her arms and legs suggested that she engaged in some sort of athletic pursuit.

  “Alex?” she asked, wedging herself in the space between the door and the doorjamb.

  Startled by his sudden closeness to her, Alex took a step back. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar. He had the feeling that he’d heard it somewhere before.

  “And you’re?”

  “Keira, Kat’s sister.” Inviting herself into his apartment, she absorbed the fluttering drapes, the framed artworks on the walls and red chaise lounge, bewildered. “This place’s cool.”

  “How did you get my address?” Alex followed her in, letting the door shut itself.

  “My friend’s a hacker.” Her eyes glowed at the plasma TV, which was turned to CNN. Without asking him, she picked up the remote like it was hers and changed channels. “I was bored, so I decided to come down here and hang out with you.”

  Alex avoided the temptation to roll his eyes. “Me? This is the first time I’ve ever seen your face.”

  “It’s never too early for you to get acquainted with your future sister-in-law. I’m going to be the one taking your side when Kat and you have fights. Treat me well and you can count on my support in the future.” Keira put her hands on her stomach and winced. “Geez. I’m famished after that long plane ride. Let’s see what you’ve got in your fridge.”

  Alex was too busy absorbing what she’d said to get her in line. Sister-in-law? What exactly was Kat telling her sister about them?

  Ignoring him, Keira raided his refrigerator. She tossed around stuff, disregarding up the precise order in which he organized things. “Milks, eggs, broccoli … don’t you have anything crunchy or fatty? Ice cream? Chocolate?”

  “Please don’t mix the milk cartons with the beer cans.” Alex came and stood behind her and his forehead creased at the rearrangement Keira had done i
n his refrigerator. He liked his things in order.

  She extracted a six-pack from his fridge. “Let’s drink. I feel like drinking.”

  Alex didn’t waste a second in relieving her of the six-pack and putting it out of her reach. Blocking the refrigerator with his body, he steered her in the direction of the TV. “No way. You’re underage.”

  He might’ve had a wild youth, but he wasn’t letting any other kid walk down that path. Especially when that kid happened to be Kat’s sister and, ahem, his possible future sister-in-law.

  “Don’t be such a stickler for rules.” Keira pouted. “What’s the fun in being with a grown-up if I don’t even get to drink? By the way, I think I’ll like the taste of beer. It’s supposed to be refreshing, isn’t it?”

  She didn’t sound like she’d had alcohol before, but it was better to confirm. “You’ve never drunk before.”

  Her eyelashes angled downwards. “I’ve never had a reason to drink before.”

  “What’s the reason now?” Alex restored his refrigerator to the orderly state it had been in before Hurricane Keira had torn through it.

  Keira busied herself checking out the contents of his kitchen cabinets. Her search yielded fruit and nut granola. Disappointed, she reconciled herself to munching handfuls of it.

  Alex was too polite to start on her behavior, so he held it in when she jumped onto his couch and spilled granola on his Persian rug. He told himself he was planning to get it dry-cleaned anyway.

  “Woo! This is fun.” She bounced on the cushions. Changing channels, she motioned him to sit beside her. “Come here. We need to be bonding.”

  “Weren’t you playing in the Australian Open?” Alex asked, leery. He recalled Kat mentioning something like that.

  “I lost, so I’m back early.” She chowed through the granola faster.

  “Is that why you wanted to drink earlier? Because you’re upset over losing?”

  “Drowning sorrows in alcohol always works in movies.” Keira extended a hand over the back of the chaise lounge.

  “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work in real life.” Alex spoke from experience. If alcohol, cigarettes and drugs worked, he would never have been sad in his life.