Off Limits: Playboys of New York Series

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Off Limits: Playboys of New York Series Page 10

by Low, JA


  “You don’t.” Noah’s voice stops me in my tracks.

  “Is this going to be weird now?” Moving my hand between us, I state the obvious.

  “Because we slept together?” Noah finishes for me.

  “No, we didn’t...” I quickly add which makes him burst out laughing.

  “I know, but you’re freaking out, and it’s kind of funny to watch.” Noah continues laughing at me.

  I pick up the pillow and throw it at him, which makes him laugh even harder. I curse him, “Fuck you.”

  “It’s all good on my end,” he tells me.

  “Okay. Good.” Walking over to my bag, I start to grab things I will need for my shower.

  “I liked it, though,” Noah tells me.

  “Liked what?” I still, immediately.

  “Being your person.”

  Turning around, his answer surprises me. “My person?” I question.

  “Yeah. I liked that you confided in me.” Seeing as he was the only person here, I didn’t have much of a choice. “I know it was by default, but still.”

  I walk back over to him and sit beside him. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me last night, Noah.” Grabbing his hand in mine. “You were a real friend to me.”

  The faintest of flinches forms across his face at the word ‘friend.’

  “Anytime, Chlo. I do think I deserve a reward for being such a brilliant friend, though.” He smiles at me.

  “A reward?”

  “Yep.” He nods, a huge grin forming on his face. “How about a friendly kiss, then?” Wiggling his eyebrows at me, he’s laughing. I slap him on his arm, playfully.

  “You were doing so well till then.” Now I’m laughing along with him.

  “Hey, I’m new to all to this friend business. Just thought I’d try my luck.”

  “I’m going to take a shower.” I head off, walking away from him.

  “There won’t be much hot water as the power went out last night. Maybe we should shower together.” His words make him howl with laughter.

  “You’re such a dick.”

  Smiling, the awkwardness of last night lifts between us.

  * * *

  “Thanks for a great weekend.” Jumping out of Noah’s car as he parks out the front of our homes.

  “No, thank you. I’m so excited to pitch your idea to Logan tomorrow. I think it’s a great innovative strategy.” Seeing him just as enthusiastic about my idea as I am fills me with pride. “Did you want to come over and finish it off tonight?”

  “I’d love to, but I have plans with the girls. They’re coming over to help me organize my thirtieth birthday party.”

  “Oh, okay, well, have fun,” he says cheerily while grabbing his bag and heading to his home.

  I do the same, quickly jumping into the shower and getting everything ready for the girls to come over.

  A few hours later, one by one, the girls arrive filling up my quiet home.

  “I love this place so much,” Emma muses sipping her glass of bubbly while sitting in the living room.

  “Can’t wait till the weather heats up and we can use the outside patio,” I tell them.

  “You do realize you’re hosting all our parties from now on,” Stella informs me.

  “I have the space.” Waving my arms around, and the girls laugh.

  “So, how was your weekend away?” Lenna asks once we’ve all settled down with drinks and food.

  “It was really good. I have so much to tell you, I don’t know where to start,” I say excitedly.

  “I knew it. You banged your boss.” Emma squeals jumping up and down in her seat. The rest of the girls excitedly chatter in agreement.

  “No.” Silencing them, I continue, “I did not sleep with Noah.”

  “Seriously?” Emma groans. “It was the perfect moment. No one would know.”

  “Except you want me to tell you all,” I remind her of her question.

  “We don’t count. It’s a given you tell us everything,” she jokes.

  I roll my eyes at her.

  “So, what did happen?” Ariana asks.

  “Well, firstly, I found your dream man.” I point to Ariana. “I have his phone number here if you’re interested.”

  “Wait! What?” Ariana asks, confused.

  “Did you get to meet Ewan?” I ask Lenna who has been up there too.

  “Oh my God, yes,” she swoons. “He’s so hot.”

  “Yes, he is. He has this whole lumberjack, man of the wild, thing going on. Plus, he loves old houses and could talk for hours about the historic moldings of The Hamptons Estate.”

  “Do you have a photo?” Ariana asks.

  “No. I forgot to get that, but he is cute.”

  “Hold on, it’s probably on his website,” Lenna adds. Pulling out her phone, she madly types away then thrusts her cell into Ariana’s face. “That’s him.”

  Ariana takes her phone and peruses it.

  “Show me,” Emma says, looking over her shoulder. “That man is fine.” She elbows Ariana. “I wouldn’t mind climbing that man mountain.” Emma licks her lips.

  “Back off, sister. He’s for Ariana.” I wiggle my finger at her, and Emma throws her hands up laughing.

  “He’s cute,” Ariana finally answers. “I just don’t have time for dating.”

  “Who said anything about dating. You have time for fucking, right?” Emma nudges her.

  “Emma!” Ariana squeals at her.

  “Please, we all know you’re not a prude. But it’s been a while since you’ve been laid,” Emma points out.

  “That’s because I have a demanding job.”

  “And running my own business isn’t demanding?” Emma argues back.

  Ariana is stumped. She’s got nothing to say because Emma’s right, nothing is busier than running your own business.

  “Why don’t you invite him to your party? It will be less set up and more casual,” Lenna tells the group.

  “Good idea,” Stella adds.

  “Want me to invite him?” I ask Ariana.

  “Fine. If it will get you all off my back. Invite him.”

  We all squeal with delight.

  “So, back to your weekend away. What happened?” Stella asks.

  “Something weird happened.” The group quietens waiting for me tell them my story. “A storm hit, and I had a panic attack.”

  “Shit,” Emma states.

  “Are you okay?” Ariana asks.

  “I don’t know. I was so embarrassed Noah had to help me. He stayed with me all night.”

  “When you say… all night… you mean in the same bed?” Emma asks.

  “Yes.”

  The girls squeal again.

  “Nothing happened,” I state dampening their spirits. “He just held me and calmed me down.”

  “That’s romantic.” Stella sighs.

  “Why do you think you’re having the attacks again?” Ariana asks.

  “Noah seems to think Walker’s attack triggered me somehow.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Ariana adds.

  “Fuck! I wish I could have cock-punched him that night,” Emma curses.

  “It is what it is, guys. I’m going to see someone again to help me because it was a severe attack.”

  “I’m sorry.” Ariana rubs my leg.

  “Anyway, something else exciting happened.” Changing the subject, the girls are all ears. “I’m going to need your help, Emma.” She raises her brows at me. “We came up with an idea of making The Hamptons Estate ‘members-only’ for the summer. Membership includes all food, drink, and all the partying you desire. We will get in international DJs, the hottest models….” I look over at Emma.

  “Oh… I like it.” Emma grins. “That’s such a great idea. I know so many people who would be into this.”

  “I’m so happy you said that because I’m going to need your little black book of awesomeness to help fill the pool area with hot people.” Emma smiles. “We have eight w
eeks to pull this off.”

  “Sweetie, consider it done.” Emma waves her champagne glass in my direction.

  “Great. We will tee up a meeting for next week.” She nods in agreement.

  Yes. Killing it.

  We chat a little bit more about what everyone else has been up to before diving into my birthday party.

  “What’s the theme?” Lenna asks.

  “I have no idea.”

  “It needs to be something sexy as you’re moving into your prime sexual years,” Emma tells us.

  “Where will it be? That might dictate a theme,” Ariana suggests.

  “Um… hello. You have this huge house with all this space, you should have it here,” Emma states.

  I’m not so convinced about that idea.

  “EJ said you could use the restaurant,” Stella suggests.

  That’s so sweet of my brother, but I’m not letting him close his restaurant on a Friday night, which is his biggest night for him.

  “Tell him he can do the food.”

  Stella writes it down.

  “Still think you should do it here,” Emma pushes.

  “I’m sure the boys would let you borrow one of the resorts if you want to go away?” Lenna advises.

  “There are too many decisions, and I can’t make one.” Damn, I’m feeling slightly overwhelmed.

  “Fine. You twisted my arm. I’ll organize it,” Emma chimes in.

  “No,” Ariana quickly adds. “Don’t give her the power, she won’t be able to stop herself.”

  “You’re such a bitch.” Emma throws a cushion at Ariana, which makes them both burst out laughing.

  “Do I seriously need a party?”

  “Yes,” the room erupts.

  “Wow! Okay. Fine. I’ll have a party.” Bowing to peer pressure, I add, “Can I trust you?” Pointing to Emma who nods her head eagerly. “Fine, then you can organize it.”

  “Yes.” Emma fist pumps the air.

  16

  Chloe

  Three weeks later

  Seriously, this can’t be happening. I struggle to free myself from the stupid, stretchy lycra fabric. This is what I get for trying to be healthy on my thirtieth birthday. I’m a curvy woman—Marilyn Monroe curves. I have a butt and boobs, unlike all these stick-thin women of Manhattan. Now, these curves have me tied up like a damn pretzel. The skin-tight sports shirt I bought in a bout of enthusiasm to get fit, might actually be the death of me. The peppy, blonde, flat-chested saleswoman insisted that this top was technologically advanced for larger-chested women with its built-in sports bra. I call bullshit because now the stupid thing is currently stuck against my sweaty, oversized chest. I’m adding to the problem with my huge head which is covered in masses of blonde curls.

  I knew I shouldn’t have skipped straightening my hair this morning, but I wanted those precious extra thirty minutes in bed. I mean, I was already getting up at ass-o’clock, and I didn’t want to get up even earlier. Now, I see my mistake.

  I try tugging at the sticky material again, but it’s still stuck like glue to my skin. I’m probably going to end up suffocating, entombed in lycra. My death making some BuzzFeed article’s top ten stupid ways to die.

  I’ll be number three—Girl Suffocates Trying to Escape Sports Bra.

  It’s Darwinism at its best, and my poor brother will be stigmatized for all eternity. Yes, I’m being dramatic. Borderline hysterical, but it’s my birthday, and this is not at all how I thought I’d be celebrating it.

  “Motherfucker,” I yell, stubbing my toe on the edge of the desk. Frustration is getting the better of me as I jump around the room. If anyone sees me, they’ll probably think I’ve escaped a mental institution and am trying to free myself from my straitjacket. I’m at work early, and there’s no one here to witness this.

  If Noah saw me tied up like this, he’d never let me live it down. I’d be the butt of all his jokes for the next year, especially as he has been bugging me to come running in Central Park with him and his brother in the mornings.

  That’s pushing the friendship, I think.

  Plus, I’m not fit at all and would probably end up having a heart attack on the side of the path while Noah and Logan do laps around me. No thanks. I have some dignity. Even if it’s not obvious right at this very moment.

  Thankfully, he has a breakfast meeting this morning, which means he misses my total and utter humiliation. Thank you, birthday gods.

  Why doesn’t he look like a sweaty pig when he arrives in the office?

  Tugging at my shirt again, I bet he doesn’t get stuck in his skintight t-shirt each morning. It probably slips right off him. He always looks like he’s stepped off a photoshoot for a men’s health magazine, his face glowing from the endorphins. The man doesn’t even stink of sweat. Somehow, he smells fresh and manly. And yet, here I am practically suffocating.

  Tugging frantically again, I let out a scream as I begin to panic.

  How the hell did I get myself in a situation like this? Because you wanted to start being healthy, that’s why. Stupid idea. Next time, ignore that inner voice inside your head, Chloe.

  So, here I am, stuck in my boss’s office because hello, he has a private bathroom and I thought I’d sneak in after my morning run, have a quick shower, and no one would be the wiser. Then I could walk around with a gorgeous workout glow on my face, and people would compliment me saying thirty looks good on me. Instead, I’m going to be passed out, maybe even dead, and people are just going to shake their heads and say, ‘Well, at least she tried.’ I struggle again trying to get this stupid shirt off because I’m not going out like this.

  “Um, Chloe... what the…”

  My body stills.

  No, no, no. I did not just hear his voice.

  I wriggle a little more, but I’m stuck.

  Shit! No!

  17

  Noah

  Holy shit, her breasts are amazing. Perfect size. More than a handful, but not too much. I bite my bottom lip, trying to stifle a groan that has worked its way up my throat all the way from my dick. This is not what I thought I’d be seeing walking into my office this morning.

  I was in a foul mood, stomping down the empty halls of The Stone Group, my morning appointment canceling on me at the last moment. But now… now my morning is looking up.

  It’s not the only thing up either. Goddammit, Chloe Jones.

  Since the Hamptons, I’ve been working really hard at disguising my feelings for her, going out on dates with other women, and I’ve even stopped flirting with her. I tried being the friend I kept saying I was and not the man who wants nothing more than to jump her at any moment.

  “Are you okay?” I’m looking at her tied up in knots.

  “Does it look like I’m okay?” she growls, wriggling again against the lycra top. I try not to laugh because she really is stuck. “Stop looking at my breasts,” she mumbles through the fabric. Even in a humiliating scenario she’s still sassing me.

  “Chloe, you’re the one bouncing around my office with your tits out. It’s kind of hard not to look.” I hear her groan. “What happens if I tell you I think they’re spectacular, and you have made my morning.”

  She stops moving. “I’m glad this is funny to you, Noah. But seriously, the last thing I want to do on my birthday is flash my boss.” She wriggles again, my attention following her movements.

  Shit, it’s her birthday.

  “I’m sorry, Chloe.” She lets out a sigh. “What if I told you this is exactly what I wanted for my birthday. Will that help?”

  Chloe stomps her feet in anger at my comment. “Never going to happen,” she says through gritted teeth. “This isn’t funny, Noah. Would you fucking help me, please? I think I’ve suffered enough public humiliation for one day. No, for one lifetime.”

  I can hear it in her voice she’s embarrassed, so I stop with the jokes. “It would be my pleasure to help.”

  “Noah. Put your sex voice away, you dirty perv,” she yells, trying
to squirm but gets herself even more stuck.

  “How do you know what my sex voice sounds like?” I question her.

  “Um… hello, I’ve overheard your conversations with your bimbo of the month.”

  “Bimbo of the month?”

  She stomps her feet again. “Seriously, do you want to have a conversation about your sex voice, right now?” she screeches.

  “Okay, I guess you’re right.” I take a couple of steps toward her, trying to work out how the hell I’m going to get her free from this mess she’s created. “Would it be a bad time to tell you, I’m a boob guy?”

  “Noah,” she yells my name.

  “You’re right, not the right time. But one more thing…” She groans. “I’m a connoisseur of breasts, and yours are the best I’ve ever seen.”

  “Shut up, Noah. Just shut up. I’m not in the mood for your flirting. Would you please just help me.”

  I hear the panic in her voice and feel a tiny bit bad for flirting with her at her most vulnerable moment, but if I’m honest, it’s the only time I can probably ever tell her the things I’ve always wanted to say to her. Because once this shirt comes off, that’s it, we’re back to boss and employee, and there will be no flirting, there will be no admiration of her boobs. Nothing.

  So, I grab the tight material and try to pull, but nothing happens. I try again and realize it’s really jammed on her body. “Shit, Chloe, you’re stuck.”

  “No shit, Captain Obvious,” she yells at me.

  “Hold on.” I walk to my desk in search of some scissors. “How attached are you to this top?” I ask.

  “Fucking get it off me,” she screams.

  Okay, so she doesn’t care. That’s good, at least.

  “Stay still, I’m going to cut it off you.” She stiffens. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” My voice drops to a calm, soothing level.

  “Sex voice again,” she mumbles, which makes me laugh.

  She holds still. The scissors glide effortlessly through the material until it’s cut all the way through. She’s facing me, her face is red, sweaty and puffy. Tears glisten in her eyes.

 

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