I lean my head back against the couch and look up at her. With my right hand, I brush her hair away from her face.
“You are breathtaking, absolutely breathtaking, Mrs. Addison.” I whisper, smiling up at her.
She cups my face with her hands and leans down to kiss me. It’s a soft kiss at first, hesitant, as we’re still new and she’s unsure of how much dominance she can unleash.
Our tongues lash against one another and I melt into the cushions as all of my senses are filled with her. Her touch. Her taste. Her presence alone is making my thoughts move from purely passive to aggressive. I want to tear off our clothes and I want to lay her down on the couch. Instead, I pull my head back slightly, breaking the kiss.
“Food,” I whisper against her lips. “We haven’t eaten since Portland.”
“You mentioned takeout? What’s good around here?” She asks quietly, her lips returning to mine to lightly brush against them, sending jolts of want and desire through my body.
I have to get up, but I don’t want to. Having her so close to me is all I want right now, but I need to remember that she’s not going anywhere, at least not if I can help it.
As if reading my mind, she smiles and presses her fingers against my mouth. “To be continued,” she promises, “but feed me otherwise, you’re not going to like me anymore.”
I laugh. As if that is possible.
“What happens?” I grin.
“I turn into a moody teenager, and teenager Peyton, you want nothing to do with. She’s a total brat and very stubborn.” She leans down for one gentler kiss then moves to sit beside me.
“Food, okay. Sustenance, I can do this. I just need one minute here before I get up.” I say, willing my cock to soften and not make me look like the teenage counterpart.
She looks down at my lap knowingly.
“It’s okay you know, it might help my ego.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
I laugh and shake my head, stand up, then adjust myself with her laughing.
“Follow me,” I hitch my head over towards the kitchen.
I open my takeout menu drawer to a gasp from her.
“What the hell, this is the first of its kind that I’ve seen of this,” she says.
“What?” I ask her puzzled.
“You have an entire drawer of menus, who does that?”
“Um, I do. I work a lot and don’t cook. So, when I am home, I order in.”
“Am I going to be eating alone while I’m here?” she asks nervously.
“I’m going to do my best to not let that happen, I promise” I tell her with absolute confidence.
And hope that I can keep my word.
Chapter Eleven
“This one time in Vegas, we drank for free at the same bar three nights in a row, because we were the best pole dancers on their public poles - but then we lost our friend then I threw up in their trash can!”
PEYTON
Seattle is amazing.
One moment it’s raining and the next its clear skies, smelling fresh and looking as if Mother Nature scrubbed the scenery clean. Sure, it rains in Los Angeles, but not nearly enough. And besides, the landscape here is vastly different than there.
At home, it’s a concrete jungle. Freeway upon freeway, with any true nature being in the canyons or an hour away with traffic. In Seattle, there’s seasons and from the large windows of Max’s penthouse condo, I can see city, water and across the bay it looks like a whole lot of nature.
We sat and ate kebabs from a Mediterranean restaurant on the couch with Friends on in the background. We didn’t talk much, as the food was so delicious that I wanted to stuff my face more than anything. But it was a comfortable silence.
When we were finished with dinner, Max took out the trash and offered me his hand to pull me up.
“I still have to give you a tour of my place,” he tells me.
“Right, I don’t want to get lost in here.” I grin.
His place is massive, too massive for just him.
“Well, you already know this area, the kitchen and the living room. That window has now become my favorite window,” he points to the one that he pressed me against when we first got inside.
Hand in hand, we walk down a hallway on one side is a bathroom, and the laundry room. Nothing fancy, just standard living spaces.
On the other side of the hallway is a bedroom.
“Master bedroom,” he says leading me inside.
There isn’t much in the room. Just a bed big enough for a family and a nightstand. There’s a picture over the bed adding a splash of color in the way of paint smatterings with the walls a muted white.
The bedding is charcoal gray with light gray pillow.
He’s silent as I observe his space. I turn around and there’s another bathroom. Obliviously there would be a master bath.
“We just started this tour, and I’ve already counted two bathrooms, what’s the deal here. Did the people who built this place figure that there needed to be a bathroom at every turn just in case you eat something bad?”
He laughs and shakes his head.
“There’s three more bathrooms,” he says grabbing my hand and leading me out of his room and down the hallway. “There’s a bathroom for every room, the one up by my room is the half-bath—which is you know—for the whole place, and so people don’t have to go into a bedroom.”
“Where are we to the space needle?” I ask.
“The other penthouse on this floor has the view from one of its bedrooms. I’ve got the bay, while the other has the city. I think I got the better end of the deal.” He grins.
Max shows me the other rooms, with one turned into an office and the other a small gym. As we walk back down the hallway to the main living area, he stops at the bedroom beside his.
“I’m not going to be presumptuous and force you to sleep in my room with me, so this can be your room. Since it’s the only one that is furnished as a bedroom.” I look to him, slightly disappointed, but also grateful.
We relaxed for the rest of the night. We were both exhausted from the long drive, but we didn’t want to part just yet. So, we lounged together on the couch while we talked for a few hours before we eventually fell asleep in one another’s arms.
* * *
“It smells here,” I scrunch my nose up at Max.
We’re on our way to Powell’s Seafood Restaurant for lunch before Max has to return to work.
“We’re walking through the market area, of course it smells. What did you expect, it to smell like roses?” he says with a smile.
“Oh shuddup. How do they keep the smell of fish contained in just this area? Do they put air fresheners outside of the Pike Place area?” I ask seriously.
He stops walking as I continue a few steps. I notice that he isn’t beside me and turn to look at him.
He looks amused. I walk back to him, tilt my head to look at him and smile.
“What?” I ask.
“Some of the things that you say,” he shakes his head, wraps his arm around my shoulders and begins walking again. “C’mon, I’m hungry for some calamari.”
Lunch was nice, and afterwards I walked back to his building with him. I recall standing in front of the building debating on whether or not to sneak a peek at him when I was here in town with my boss.
“What time do you think you will be home?” I ask him turning to face him.
He pushes a stray hair behind my ear and smiles. “I’ll be home before dinnertime.”
“We sound so domestic right now,” I say with a laugh.
“Well, Mrs. Addison, I don’t know about you, but I sort of like it.” He leans down and kisses the tip of my nose, then moves his head and lightly kisses me. We’re holding hands and I press into him briefly, still aware of where we are—I pull back before we get carried away again.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he whispers, his forehead leaning against mine.
“Tonight.” I reply.
He squeezes my hand
and we pull apart.
“Don’t get lost in the city, don’t talk to strangers, and don’t go marrying another random stranger!” he teases.
MAXWELL
I don’t know what is happening to me.
Since officially meeting Peyton, I haven’t been the serious, business-driven hardass that I normally am.
I don’t let up while at work, but I am a little more understanding of my assistant not completing a task than I normally would have been.
And for once, I pay attention to the time and look forward to going home.
Because I have someone to go home to.
I’ve never had someone waiting for me when I get home from work. I’ve never had someone that I worry about if I would be late. And I’ve never made it out of the office before six in the evening.
It’s five-forty-five when I walk into my condo, and it feels different than when I normally come home.
My home actually feels like a home, with the lights on and a delicious smell wafting in the air. This type of thing, hasn’t happened for years—I’d almost forgotten what it was like. I place my laptop bag and keys on the island and see Peyton standing in front of the stove stirring absently in the pot, with her other hand petting the top of Scout’s head as he sits loyally by her side, hoping for her to drop some food. The dog pays me no attention, which means she must have used her witchcraft on him too. I walk up behind her and kiss her on the neck. She cranes her head away as I lay another kiss just below her ear.
Scout’s tail wags as I also reach down and pat his head. There’s so many new developments happening right now, that I feel like I’m in an alternate universe—something that I could get used to.
“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” I ask.
“I’m making Bolognese. How was your day?” she asks.
“It went by pretty quick, but it was good. I liked having the lunch break away from the office, that’s something that I could get used to.”
“Yeah? Where do you usually eat lunch?”
“If I’m not schmoozing new clients, which is still considered work and we talk more than we eat, I’m eating at my desk.”
“You know that isn’t healthy, you should take time away from your desk.”
“Yes, mom.”
“Ew, don’t call me that.” She playfully swats me.
“Yeah, that’s pretty gross, the things that I want to do to you, are disgusting things to do with your mother.”
“The things you want to do to me?” She quirks an eyebrow.
“You have no idea.” I growl.
We haven’t taken the relationship that far yet, and I’m letting Peyton be the one to guide how fast or how slow we go. We’ve done a lot of kissing, and a little bit of grinding, but all of our clothes have stayed on so far.
I feel like I’m back in high school.
I’ve given her the option to sleep in the other room, and so far, this hasn’t been something we have had to face with passing out on the couch last night.
“Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes, do what you normally do when you get home from work.” Peyton turns back to the stove. “Which would be…”
I observe her again with a smile. Scout is back by her side, waiting for something to drop on the floor and she’s oblivious to my perusal of her.
“I usually work out, shower and then continue working.” I reply.
She looks back at me. “You come home from work, to only work more?”
“I like to get ahead of things. I’ll be back, I’m going to shower the work day off of me,” I wink at her. Her face flushes and she turns back to the stove.
“Thirty minutes, Buster.” She warns.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Not much longer after I disappeared, I’m returning back to the delicious smell of dinner. Peyton has plated our food and is filling wine glasses that I wasn’t aware that I had with red wine. I slide into a chair across from her at the table and place my napkin on my lap.
She looks expectantly at me confusing me as to what’s happening.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“I’m waiting for you to try it,” she explains. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be creepy about it. This is my favorite recipe and I always like to capture the first bite on new people.”
I nod, feeling a little self-conscious, but give in and get some of the meal on my fork, bring it to my mouth and have it attack all of my senses in the most amazing way. I linger with the taste and chew slowly as my eyes roll into the back of my head. I’m not exaggerating but experiencing this moment. I’m not sure how much time has gone by, but by the time that I’ve come back to planet Earth from what was like heaven—Peyton is digging into her own plate.
“Did I have all of this in the fridge?” I ask.
“Not at all. I’ve never seen an empty fridge. I mean I have, like when you first move into a new place, but it looks like you’ve never used the thing. And that’s a really nice fridge, how could you not use it. I’d kill for a fridge like that, although back home, I’m pretty sure I would get robbed if someone saw it in my kitchen. No, it would be the entire kitchen, that thing is huge.” She rambles.
“I take it that, you’re finding your way around the city?”
“There some cute stores around here, expensive as hell. But totally cute. I also asked the downstairs guy and he pointed me in all the right directions.”
“You didn’t need to go and spend your money,” I tell her.
“How else would we eat? I’m only here for another three days and I’m not going to eat takeout the whole time. While it’s good takeout, I can cook some things, and your kitchen is made for cooking.”
“Give me a list of things that you will need and I’ll have the food delivered.” I tell her.
“I think I got enough to last, maybe even make you some things for when I go back home.”
That thought saddens me, but I shake it off and try to change the subject.
“So, I have some good news,” I begin, “I work all day tomorrow, and can’t get away for lunch, but the following day, I have off and we can do whatever you wish.”
Her smile takes over her face and she’s almost bouncing in her seat at my news.
“Anything?” she asks.
“Anything,” I tell her.
Chapter Twelve
“This one time in Vegas, each time we walked the Strip, the strip club and escort girls would give me their pamphlets and brochures—ignoring everyone else in our group, including our single guy friends.”
PEYTON
I have everything that I want to do written as a list on my phone. I mapped out everywhere that I wanted to go, and kept it a secret from Max. It’s been hard to do so, though.
Last night, he came home and after we ate dinner, he tried to tickle torture me until we ended up wrapped up in one another like crazed teenagers.
We’ve slept in separate rooms, despite the want and desire building up, but I’ve wanted to get to know him before I planned to sleep with him—again.
We get into the elevator and before he can press for the garage, I press for the street level and he looks at me with a confused look.
“I have my plans and it doesn’t entail that we drive around in your car.” I tell him holding up my phone.
“So, how will we get to wherever that you want to go?” he questions.
“Public transportation and our own two feet.” I smile. “They’re made for walking you know.”
He nods slowly and then looks at his feet.
“And that’s just what they’ll do. Good thing that I’m wearing my comfortable shoes.” He rolls back and forth on his feet. “So, where to first?”
I open up my phone, smile and point up the street, away from the bay.
“We are fifteen minutes away from our destination,” I turn my face to him and smile.
“Walking, right?” He asks.
“Yes, we can take an Uber or something after that, but I would like to
walk around the city a little bit. You can see so many different things from the walking perspective that you can’t in a car.”
“Wherever you go, I will follow.” He grabs my hand and we start on our journey.
We take in the smells, the good and bad of Seattle. When Max almost stepped in dog poop, I nearly died of laughter with the disgusted look on his face, and then laughed even more when he actually did step in dog poop not five feet later. After cleaning off his sneakers in a nearby public restroom, and with Max likely silently cursing me for making us walk at first.
Not much longer, I came to a halt on 4th Avenue and stare up to the sky at the building in front of us.
“What’s this?” Max asks.
“Columbia Center. They have a sky view observatory and it’s supposed to have killer views. Since being in your place, I’m all about these views.” I grin.
Once we’re high up, with a panoramic view of Seattle, my breath is taken away. We have a view of everything from the mountains to the bay. It’s breathtaking and beautiful.
“Let’s take advantage of where we are, care to get a drink and something to eat?” Max asks trapping me in his arms from behind. I lean back and smile.
There’s a bar behind us, with an eager bartender waiting for us to come up to him and order something.
“I could go for a little something,” I reply.
We each get a beer and share a BBQ Chicken flatbread then admire the views.
Before leaving, Max pulls me to him and lowers his head.
He kisses me softly and pulls away.
“I want to make sure that I kiss you at every place we go to today,” he says quietly.
“Um, okay. Any particular reason?” I ask searching his eyes.
“Because I want everywhere we go, to remind me of you when you go back home. So I can look back at a location like the Columbia Center and remember that I kissed you here.”
What Happens In Vegas Page 8
