Authors: Clare James
It is a long and excruciating
ride home. I’m hard, and sweaty, and unbelievably uncomfortable. That may have
been one of my hottest sexual experiences, and I didn’t even touch the girl.
Make that woman. Stevie’s not even remotely girly, she is
all woman. She knows what she wants, doesn’t make apologies for it, and takes
action. That alone is a huge turn-on. Add her curvy little body and angelic
face to the mix and I didn’t stand a chance.
Walking out the door of her hotel room—without getting a
good look at the goods under the lace—was an act of sheer willpower. I wanted
to take her then and there. In any way she’d let me. She would’ve too, but she
was on the other side of buzzed, heading toward drunk. And though I may have,
let’s say
unique
sexual pursuits, I would never take advantage of a
woman that way.
No matter how much it kills me.
Inside my place, it’s too quiet. I’m not used to being
alone here. I turn on the TV to kill the silence, before hitting the shower.
The water is cranked to cold, but the frigid water does nothing to take my mind
off Stevie. The image of her spread out on the bed—so ready and full of want—has
my dick hard and my breath ragged. Her lust-filled eyes and pouting mouth had me
thinking filthy thoughts. Her pale, smooth skin had my hands aching to touch. The
way her breasts, high and full with those tight rosy nipples threatening to
break out of all that lace, invited me to taste. And I can only imagine what
was beneath those tiny panties.
That does it.
It takes only three strokes to come. I have to admit it
hurts my pride, but that’s how whipped up she has me.
After I take care of business, I can finally breathe again.
Of course, I could’ve just as easily gone to The Club. A partner would’ve been
much better—and much less pathetic—than a solo act. Yet, being with someone
else just didn’t feel right.
Maybe I want more.
It’s been so long time since I’ve felt this …too long.
Plus, I think I really could help her. And maybe myself. Christ, I know what
it’s like. I’ve been where she is.
When I get out of the shower, I begin to formulate a plan. One
that will help both of us and be a hell of a good time.
“Hey, it’s Gabe,” I say into the phone. “I’m bringing in someone
new tomorrow night and I’m going to need help with a few preparations.”
I know exactly what my next move is.
“Ms. Sinclair?”
I wake to a woman’s voice and a light tapping on the door.
Rolling around in my luxuriously comfortable bed, I’m unwilling to get up.
“Mmm,” I grunt, hoping the noise will go away.
“Ms. Sinclair?”
No luck. I open my eyes, and the room slowly comes into focus.
The hotel room. I feel a small pang of despair when I remember why I’m here—my
current homeless and boyfriendless status.
“Ms. Sinclair, Ms. Sinclair,” Free Bird chirps.
At least I’m not petless.
The sheet I put over Free’s cage slipped a little in the
night, and he’s wide-awake, pacing back and forth. Poor guy is just as confused
as I am.
“Shhh,” I tell him as I get up and fix the sheet.
I hope I did the right thing bringing him with me when I
left Max.
My ex
. Nope, I don’t like the sound of that one bit. I still can’t
believe I didn’t see it coming. I can’t believe one day we’re buying groceries
together—the man bought my tampons for crying out loud—and the next, I’m
finding condoms for his secret sexcapades. And they were the fancy kind with extra
lube, no less. Of course I looked.
But even though I don’t have a home, and I’m currently
using the last of my hotel points for this roof over our heads, Free Bird has
to better off with me. Plus, I wouldn’t want him to pick up the manwhore
lifestyle: bringing random lady birds to his cage at all hours, slicking his
feathers back with cheap gel, talking in cheesy one-liners. No, not my sweet
boy.
“Coming,” I call out to the woman behind the door,
searching for my robe. I’m still naked from last night’s festivities—and my
time with Gabe. Now, that particular memory has exactly the opposite effect as
the Max situation.
When I finally make it to the door, I open to a beautiful
assault on the senses.
“I have your breakfast, Ms. Sinclair,” a young woman with
deep red hair and bright green eyes tells me with a smile—like she’s in on some
secret.
Strange, how does she know my name?
My stomach growls in approval, but I didn’t order this, nor
can I afford it.
“Sorry,” I say, wiping the drool from my mouth. “I didn’t
order breakfast.”
“I know.” She winks. “But someone did for you.”
Gabe.
And just like that, my hunger turns into a different sort
as my mind once again goes back to last night—by far the most erotic night of
my life. Almost the best night of my life, if I’m being honest. What I wouldn’t
do to hear the low purr of his sexy voice right now.
“Enjoy,” the woman says before quietly closing the door. I
hardly notice.
On the cart, covered in white linen, is a feast. And not
your typical hotel food either. A fragrant bouquet of brightly colored flowers
sits in the middle of the table full of baskets, bowls, and covered plates. The
croissants look like they came from a French bakery, the assortment of fruit
from a farmer’s market, and the frittata from a European café. And then, thank
the heavens, there’s a cappuccino, topped off with a frothy, floating heart. I
can’t help it when mine flips inside my chest.
How long did it take him to put this together?
I shove half of the croissant in my mouth, take a long sip
of the creamy cappuccino, and search for my phone. It’s buried under the covers
because I didn’t have the strength to put it away after my little experiment
with Gabe—to be more specific, phone sex for the win.
Round two, anyone?
I slide my robe off and slink into the covers—oh yeah, I
slink now. Searching my contacts, I pull up the number he called me on last
night and start round two without him. His sexy
hello
is all I need.
With my eyes closed, I reach in between my legs and repeat
the movements from last night.
One ring.
I imagine his icy eyes burning into me after I take my
clothes off.
Two rings.
I can hear the low growl of his voice, ordering me what to
do.
Three rings—damn, voicemail. Click.
That’s okay. I can do this without him; I have an
incredibly active imagination after all. I take a deep breath and concentrate
working my hands like Gabe had me do. Okay, yes, this is nice. I picture him
here with me, his hands on me. Right there, Gabe. Right—
“Beep, beep, beep,” Free calls from under his cage,
mimicking the sound of our alarm clock at home. “Beep, beep, beep.”
Fuck!
This is so not the way to get my sexy back. Still, I can’t
be mad at Free. I climb out of bed and take the sheet off the cage.
“Morning, Free,” I greet him.
“Morning, morning, morning,” he answers back.
I open his cage and let the boy fly around the room for a
bit while I attack the smorgasbord. The food’s not as good as what I had in
mind with Gabe, but it is a close second.
Then a new thought runs through my mind—maybe this
breakfast is just Gabe’s classy parting gift. It was probably just a one-time
thing—both of us caught up in the moment. Ugh, the pit in my stomach is back …
that is until New Me takes over.
New Me doesn’t worry about what others are thinking; New Me
only worries about taking care of herself and talking in the third person,
apparently. And right now, the only thing New Me needs to do is eat every last
thing on this amazing spread.
My phone vibrates and bounces on top of the bedside table.
I dive to retrieve it, hoping to hear Gabe’s voice on the other end of the
line.
“Hello,” I say and then hold my breath.
“Why didn’t you call last night?” a high-pitch voice
demands.
Shit, it’s just Tia.
“I was indisposed,” I answer, taking a page from her
playbook—all coy and evasive.
“Meaning?” she asks, clearly not impressed.
“I met somebody,” I say quietly.
“What?” she yells. Then I hear a crash, a curse, and the
phone dropping to the floor.
“Tia?”
“I’m here, I’m here. Shit, Stevie. You met someone already,
you little slut? I need details. All of them.”
“I can’t right now.” Oooh, this is so fun.
“Tonight then. Happy Hour at Jake’s?”
I’ve never been one to put off my girlfriends for a man,
but I might just have to for Gabe. I’m not sure if we really have plans for
tonight, or not, but I want my options open. I’m not going to miss out on one
second with that man. Yeah, Tia will have to wait.
“Sorry, I can’t tonight.”
Tia whines.
“Okay, but you need to know that Max called me.”
I groan.
“I told him I didn’t want to get in the middle of this. But
after he informed me that you won’t call him back, I agreed to convey the
message. I had no choice. He sounded pretty down.”
“Consider it conveyed,” I tell her. “Well catch up soon, I
promise. Sorry, hon. I have to go. I’ll call you.”
I hang up feeling a little guilty, but damn did that feel
good. It’s nice to be the one on top for a change.
***
“How are you feeling, Stevie?” my boss, Daniel, asks when I
get to the shop.
“Better,” I tell him, the guilt settling in my gut as I
work my way around all the story boards on the easels scattered throughout the
room. Right, we have that big presentation on Friday—one of the biggest
accounts our design firm has ever gone after. It’s an account we should have.
Our team kicks ass. But as a small shop, we could be seen as a risk.
“Thank Christ,” Daniel says, looking quite disheveled as he
pulls me into the conference room. Normally impeccably dressed, my boss now
strides ahead of me wearing wrinkled pants, a t-shirt with a coffee stain on
the front, and at least four days of scruff. It’s worse than I thought.
“We need you to work your magic on a few of these
concepts,” Daniel says as he chews his thumbnail while staring at one of the
boards. “We need you bad, girl.”
“Calm down,” I tell him. “I’m here, and I won’t stop until
these are perfect. I promise you.”
Though I may not have my sexy, I do have my mojo fully in
place at work. It took me several jobs before I found this firm, but I was made
for this place. I love the variety of work, the creative people, and our funky
loft space. It’s perfect for me.
I settle in at one of the long tables in the conference
room and power up my Macs. Then I get to work on the social media design concept
we have for the fitness company’s blog, Facebook, and Twitter accounts. The
mock-up is almost there; it just needs a few tweaks to really make it special.
Lost in a sea of colors and fonts, the morning flies by,
and I almost miss the call coming in on my cell.
“Sinclair,” I answer, not moving my eyes from the two Mac
screens I’m working on.
“Damn, you’re sexy in work mode,
Sinclair
.”
Oh shit, it’s Gabe.
I instantly blush, and my focus blurs, going back to my
hotel room last night. My body hums in utter delight.
“Good morning,” I say with the biggest smile in my voice.
“I tried to call you earlier to thank you for that amazing breakfast.”
“I know,” he says in that rich tone of his. “I wasn’t happy
I missed your call, but I was stuck in a meeting with vendors early this
morning. Did you enjoy your meal?”
“Understatement,” I say.
“Well, I had to do
something
to thank you for last
night,” he says, pushing my body past the humming stage toward downright
throbbing.
“I think it should be the other way around, mister,” I say,
squeezing my legs together. If only I had him on the phone this morning.
Grrr
.
“I disagree. In fact, free room service isn’t sufficient
for what you gave me last night.”
Oh boy, I need to shut this down before I reach the point
of no return. How does he do this to me with just his voice?
I clear my throat. “What did you have in mind?”
“Lunch. Millennium Park. One o’clock.”
It’s not a question. Damn, I love when he’s all bossy.
“Okay,” I say.
“So, the adventure continues,” he adds before hanging up.
I drop the phone.