The Interview

by Alice Ward

  I chuckled. “Not at all, darling.” I let go of her hand only long enough to situate myself beside her, my legs also hanging over the side of the building, and grinned. “You’re sitting in my spot, you know, but I’ll let it fly just this once. Since it’s a date and all.”

  “Your spot? Do you own the building or something?”

  I shook my head. “Oh, no. I’m just a regular at Coin, and I usually come up here after I eat. Sometimes, I bring my dinner up here with me.”

  “Are you a crimefighter looking for wrongdoings?” She nudged my arm with her elbow and cast a smile in my direction that would’ve made me weak in the knees if I’d been standing. Which, given our precise location, could have resulted in horrible consequences.

  “Just a dreamer, unfortunately.” I motioned to the skyline around us. “It’s hard not to be from here. Do you realize how incredible it is to live in a city where, even on a rooftop, we’re nothing but ants?”

  She followed the path of my traveling arm with her eyes, slowly nodding, and I saw realization light her expression. “Yeah.” She said it softly, but I heard it as plainly as if she’d shouted. “You’re right.”

  Silence fell between us, not an uncomfortable one but one filled with awe for the panorama we were taking in. Skyscrapers near and far towered what seemed like miles into the sky while the strolling and sprinting pedestrians below appeared as little more than bumbling specks. The effects of light pollution in New York were no secret, but from where we sat, the haze of neon and fluorescence seemed to pale in comparison to the deep, rich navy of the all-encompassing sky overhead. Taxis honked, people shouted, sirens wailed, and music thumped from every corner of the urban paradise, yet all was still. Peaceful.

  Somehow, even with the striking view and humbling reality of our precarious position, I was most amazed by the woman at my side. She was stronger than I’d thought, more courageous and daring, which amplified the tempting qualities I already knew about her tenfold. Her wit matched mine, her zeal held its own, and my attraction to her was galactic in its proportions. I craved her, and I was terrified of her for it. What had I gotten myself into?

  I didn’t realize I was staring at her until she looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Is there something on my face?”

  My instinct took over. I didn’t reply. Instead, I cupped her chin between my thumb and forefinger, curled a hand around her waist, and kissed her.

  The city ebbed away, all its movement and sounds and busy activity fading into a dull soundtrack for our joining. She met my kiss with welcoming lips, and I savored the taste of wine on her tongue. Deeper, I penetrated into her mouth and took it as my own, and she exhaled a whispered moan through my teeth. I drank it, swallowed it, absorbed it completely into myself, and swam in her passion.

  Sadie Danes, The Apple, had somehow twisted me up, and I didn’t want to be freed.

  My lower lip swelled beneath hers, suckling in to nibble at the luscious flesh, and I felt her breath where her tongue had just been. She was growing warmer beneath my touch. Where my hand curled around her hip, heat was starting to permeate through the thin fabric of her dress, and it was matched by the heat gathering in my cock.

  I was sound enough of mind to remember we were on a ledge, which meant delving any deeper into our erotic desires was likely a fatal impulse, but my self-control was waning. If we didn’t stop soon, I was going to have to tumble backward onto the safety of the ledge-bordered rooftop to satisfy my primal urges.

  As if to rescue us from foolish danger, a screeching horn cut through the night. The moment severed, and we broke apart with hazy eyes and panting breaths. I tore my gaze from her face, flushed exquisitely with lust, to look down at the street below our dangling feet.

  A traffic jam had started in front of Coin, and one by one, cabs and impatient drivers in silver Jags were laying on their horns to incite movement. I furrowed my brow in suspicion as I noticed one vehicle in particular, a blue van with a satellite-style attachment on the roof, parked at the curb. People were gathering around it in a swarm, and others were flooding from all sides of the street to join the growing mob.

  “Aw, shit.”

  “What’s going on?” Sadie was peering down too, but she didn’t sound nearly as concerned as I did.

  I groaned. “It’s the media. Someone must have found out I’m here.”

  She swung her face to me with the kind of alarm I would have expected from a seasoned celebrity, not a journalist new to the fame scene. “Are you sure? Maybe there was just an accident or something.” I pointed to the blue van, and she let out a groan of her own. “Okay, you might be right. That’s a news van.”

  “Yep. Getting out of here is going to be interesting.”

  “Shouldn’t we go before it gets worse?” Her forehead was creased with worry, which I found adorable.

  Chuckling slightly, I shrugged. “Yeah, probably, but you’re going to want to see this first.”

  I pointed down to the street again, and she followed the gesture. Within seconds, the large body of Michel barreled out of Coin straight into the mob. He was wielding a ladle the size of a small melon, swinging it about like a club.

  “Back! Du balai! You pathetic bunch of animals! Get away from my restaurant!” The chef’s furious bellows rose above the sounds of angry horns and noisy fans. “You filthy pigs! Get back!”

  Sadie covered her mouth with her hand, but when she caught sight of the wide grin on my face, she couldn’t hold back. Bursting out in raucous laughter, she nearly fell backward as her entire body trembled with the intensity of her giggles.

  I chortled along with her, perhaps not quite as amused as she because I’d witnessed the same scene a handful of times at least. But seeing her come apart at the seams like that with such gripping, involuntary hysteria was by far the most satisfying part of the night so far. I didn’t dare interrupt her for fear of bringing an early end to her delight and allowed her to carry on as long as she liked before speaking.

  “Oh my god.” She finally hiccupped and wiped tears from her eyes. “My cheeks hurt.”

  “Michel is a character all his own.” I cautiously scooted back on the ledge until I had enough leverage to finagle myself onto my feet. She started to copy me, but I held up a hand to stop her. “I’m not letting you take the risk of trying to stand up on those heels.”

  She paused, and I lifted her clean off the concrete in one easy motion, placing her down only once I’d carried her toward the safety of the roof’s middle. She dusted off the seat of her dress. “So, how are we going to escape that mess down there?”

  I took out my phone, sent a single letter text to Phillip, and grinned. “Haven’t you learned yet that there’s always a back way?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sadie

  It was amazing how quiet the inside of the Town Car seemed compared to the ruckus happening outside a full block over, but I wasn’t displeased with the onset of peace. I was, however, disappointed. The kiss on the roof of Coin had been incredible, definitely the most Hollywood-esque kiss I’d ever experienced, and I hadn’t wanted it to end. It might not have, either, if droves of nosy fans hadn’t decided to take it upon themselves to bombard the street and the restaurant, but I was starting to come to terms with the reality that dating Tate McGrath pretty much guaranteed abrupt endings to nice evenings out because it was only a matter of time before someone discovered him in a public venue.

  He slipped into the backseat with me like my thoughts had called him to me, and the chauffeur shut the door behind him. “Would you like to come back to my place?”

  The question was a tricky one. Did I want to go back to his penthouse, the site of our first tryst and what was quite possibly the most intense experience of my life? Yeah, I did. Would I like it? Without a doubt.

  But, should I?

  “Actually, I have to get up really early.” My brain screamed obscenities at my mouth as I said it.

  Tate raised a single, challenging brow
. “Sadie Danes, writer at The Apple, using the biggest cliché in dating rejection history? You disappoint me.”

  I smiled a little self-consciously to cover up the raging desire I had to take it back and beg him to carry me to his bed. “It might be a cliché, but it’s true. I’m going to Connecticut in the morning.”

  “Farmer’s market?”

  “Church, actually.”

  His brow was joined by its brother, and both reached for his hairline. “You’re kidding me.”

  If only.

  “No, I’m serious.” I tightened my mouth to demonstrate how serious I truly was. “Every Sunday, six in the morning, I leave the great big city to return to my humbler rural roots.”

  “You know, I think we have a few churches right here in New York.” He leaned toward me to speak like he was telling me a deep, dark secret. “One or two. There might be a synagogue, too, if that’s more to your religious taste.”

  The very idea of my mother’s face if I announced to her I was going to start attending services at a New York City synagogue was comical enough to elicit a laugh from me. “Please. I’m a born and bred Protestant. The horror of an innocent Connecticut girl even walking into a synagogue for anything other than a social engagement would be enough to wipe out the entire Danes clan in one fell swoop.”

  “Well, I’m sure there’s somewhere in the city to accommodate your specific religious needs.

  “I go to church with my parents,” I told him. “It’s just a tradition we have. A little hokey, maybe, but—”

  “No.” He cut me off abruptly, and the sudden sincerity in his voice made me start. “It’s not hokey. It’s nice. Traditions are nice to have, especially with family.” He leaned forward to address the driver. “Miss Danes’ apartment, please, Phillip.”

  I watched Tate’s face as he sat back against the seat. The topic of family had seemed like such a toxic one earlier at dinner that I was surprised to hear him bring it up again, let alone to hear him bring it up in such a positive light. He’d sounded almost envious, or maybe a little mournful. From the few things he’d said to the press regarding his parents and his childhood, there hadn’t been anything especially unique about his youth. Suburban kid, one sibling, a mom, and dad open-minded enough to let him pursue his interests. Not unlike me. I could have sworn I heard a note of sorrow in his tone when he mentioned family, though, and I was immediately ensconced in curiosity.

  After the incident during our date, however, I certainly wasn’t going to ask.

  “I have to admit, I was hoping I’d be able to take you home with me.” His hand wrapped around my knee, and I felt his pulse thrumming against my skin. “You look great in that dress, but I know for a fact you look even better out of it.”

  A shiver ran up my spine at the thought of him undressing me, slowly and methodically, slipping the silken fabric from my body until it fell away and left me bare in front of him. The mental image was so powerful that my thighs were instantly bathed in fire, and I had to squeeze them together just to keep myself under a measure of control.

  What I actually wanted was to climb on top of him right then and there, and ride him until I experienced the same kind of earth-shattering orgasm I had before.

  “Thank you.” It was the only response I could muster, and it sounded weak and girlish.

  He nuzzled the place beneath my ear with the tip of his nose, then his lips traveled up my lobe until he hissed out a whisper. “Do you remember when I told you part of my job in taking you on a date was to make sure you were satisfied?”

  My breath hitched in my throat. “Yes.”

  The hand resting on my knee started to move. With painstaking slowness, it skimmed up my inner thigh, gently easing my legs apart and venturing beneath the loose hem of my skirt. I was starting to quake both inside and out, but alarms started ringing in my head at the sight of the driver’s forehead in the rearview mirror.

  “We’re not alone,” I reminded Tate quietly.

  A low, rumbling growl played in my ear. “Yes, we are.”

  That roving hand reached my apex, separated from me only by the thinnest cloth, and he applied pressure to the sensitive region with two fingers. I twitched against my will, and found myself leaning into him. I felt him grin against my temple.

  “Quiet, now.” His voice was so soft it was practically nothing more than air. “We don’t want to attract attention.”

  Fingernails delicately scraped the crease where thigh met pelvis as he started to peel my panties away from me, easing them over to one side and revealing my most intimate of places to his touch. I twitched again, and this time, a moan nearly slipped out from my lips. I clamped them shut tightly, determined both to oblige his command and to maintain some semblance of decency in the eyes of the chauffeur, who either hadn’t a clue or knew better than to acknowledge what was happening a mere arm’s length from him.

  The pad of Tate’s forefinger started to dance in teasing circles like a member of a ritualistic tribe. Nearer and nearer he drew to my clit, but he never touched it, never allowed me to feel the ecstasy it would bring if he would just stroke the nerve-laden button. I started to groan.

  “Silence, Juliet.” A whispered order more vehement than any shout.

  And then he touched me. I was thrust into a dizzying build of pleasure as he fluttered his finger with featherlight caresses over my clit, and it took everything inside me not to let fly a moan so guttural I could’ve been mistaken as an animal in heat. My hips acted of their own accord, lifting in a silent plea for more, but he pushed them down with his free hand and shook his head.

  “Your pleasure is my pleasure, beautiful girl, but do not mistake me for a generous man. Your pleasure must be earned.”

  “We don’t have time for that.” I was a little louder than I wished to be, but I couldn’t help it. “My apartment’s not that far away.”

  “Oh, but I am not the one who must flee fair Verona in the hour of daybreak.” There was laughter hiding underneath his words. “I have all the time in the world.”

  The same finger playing with my clit disappeared without warning, and a tiny whimper escaped my throat. It returned with brothers a second later, slithering around the outer edges of my folds and dipping into my crease, which was already slick with want. They journeyed up, down, up, down, and then they separated, one returning to my tingling clit and the other burrowing deep inside my pussy.

  Pleasure rocketed through me at a million miles an hour, careening from the places he ravished to the furthest extremities of my body, and my head was thrown back by an unseen, internal force. I bucked against his ministrations, rocking my ass back and forth on the seat in time with his strokes. He streaked one finger across my sweet spot over and over again while the other played a rhythmic tune on the button that was swelling with my arousal. I was a marionette to his puppeteering, but I had a voice, and it was pleading with me to be heard.

  “Still yourself.”

  This command was one of an impossible nature. I thought it was difficult keeping quiet, but I was sure I was entirely incapable of staying immobile as he drew me closer to a climax that already seemed to be rivaling the last one he’d given me.

  “I can’t.” It sounded more like a plea than a protest.

  “Such an ugly word has no place on lips as lovely as yours.” He kissed me gently, sweetly, then withdrew a bit with flames in his eyes. “You will do as I say.”

  As if to illustrate his intensity, he ramped up his speed. Suddenly, fingers that were frolicking became fingers that were racing. Each plunge of his digit into my pussy was like an ambush, too swift for the contest and too powerful for defense. I was crumbling as quickly as a milk-soaked cookie, and my resolve wasn’t far behind.

  “Tate!”

  He kissed me again. Hard. Steeling. Claiming.

  “I can’t…”

  Raw. Unyielding. Forceful.

  “Please!”

  He stopped. His hand stopped. Everything stopped, includi
ng the car.

  “Fuck, I’m so close.” I hissed this complaint with venom upon feeling his fingers retracting, angry at myself for not just disobeying him and letting the orgasm claim me as it wanted.

  Tate straightened up and addressed the driver as if nothing unusual was occurring. “No need to get out, Phillip. I’ll be just a minute.”

  “Sir.”

  Opening his own door, Tate wrangled himself cleanly out of the vehicle and extended a hand to me. It didn’t escape my notice that it was the one absent the shine of my desire. I slid across the bench seat, took the hand, and exited the car myself. He closed the door behind me and turned around, blocking Phillip’s view of me with his body. “Come here.”

  I did as I was bidden, stepping near enough to him that the lapels on his jacket brushed the loose drop collar on my dress.

  “We shall say our goodnights.” He pulled me to him with one arm, closing the space between us completely. I reached up to hook my hands around his neck in a hug, but a gasp ripped through me as the same hand that had teased and tortured me in the car returned to my still needy core.

  “People will see,” I exclaimed in a murmured panic, whipping my head around in either direction to take note of any approaching observers.

  “We are naught but two lovers departing under the cover of night in an embrace.” He was sophisticated and unconcerned, and then he lowered his voice to a feral depth. “And you will finish for me.”

  Two fingers drove into me this time while his thumb sought my clit once more. Together, they devoured me, taking my composure and leaving me a trembling wreck against Tate’s workout-regimented form. I clung to his neck like a lifeline because I knew I was seconds away from losing all muscle control in my legs and I’d end up in a heap on the ground if I let go.

  My G-spot was screaming, warning me of the impending orgasm he was determined to steal from me come hell or high water — or passersby or nosy neighbors. How I was going to manage to keep a low profile when I was about to fall apart at the seams, I had no idea, and there wasn’t time to figure it out.