Lag (The Boys of RDA Book 2) (26 page)

The elevator dings and as the doors open, Trey reaches for my hand and we walk off together. My breath stalls at the sight once my eyes adjust and take in the area in front of us. The room is a large square and like most restaurants, there are smaller four-person tables placed throughout the space. Beyond that the exterior wall isn’t a wall at all, but rather large windows all spaced next to one another to maximize the open viewing area.

It’s a room of glass looking out high above the city, lit up for the evening. A hostess leads us to a table in front of the window to our right, but I don’t notice anything about her or those around us. The display’s spectacular and I can’t take my eyes away from the large skyscrapers and pointy pyramid-shaped Transamerica building outside our window. Trey pulls out my chair and I sit but don’t look in his direction until I turn my head to see what he laughs at.

Me apparently.

“It’s so beautiful all lit up.”

My nose finally picks up the smell of meat. I check out the food at the table next to us for a quick moment and then turn back to the view and a partial angle of Trey’s face. He takes the menu I didn’t realize I still had and sets them on the table.

“I had a feeling you’d like it.”

Our waitress, in a standard black uniform with her dark brown hair up in a tight bun, approaches our table. I reach for the menu I never took time to look at, but Trey stills my hand with his and then begins to spout off an order for us.

“Give us three Kobe sliders, an order of spring rolls, and a queso fondito.” He hands both menus to her. “With water and whatever Martini you think would be paired best."

I’d protest on principle alone, but I like the sound of everything Trey ordered, and it’s not like I looked at the menu. Rather than allowing him to see his over handedness might be growing on me, I go back to gazing at the view.

“How did you and Melvin get along today?”

Trey breaks the silence and I’m forced to remove my eyes from the window to answer him. My head flips so far to the side it rests on the top of my shoulder and my eyes narrow in his direction.

“He showed me a mole this afternoon and asked me to make him a dermatologist appointment.”

Rather than console me, he laughs. “He’s a remarkable programmer, Simone. Plus, he has no life and does nothing but work. He’s perfect."

Yes, truly, I can’t imagine why he isn’t married with ten kids. “I’m pretty sure it was a pimple, Trey.” My sarcastic thought bleeds into my comeback and makes me sound like I’m joking, but I’m not.

He reaches across our small square table and grabs my hand, locking it together with his. An elbow rests on the surface as he slides his upper body closer and meets my eyes drawing me into his depths. I brace for one of his classically sweet Trey moments.

“He’ll grow on you.”

“Seriously?” I roll my eyes at him and try to pull my hand back, but he holds on and places his over mine on the table surface.

“Well isn’t this sweet.” I stiffen at the intrusion and Trey grasps my hand tighter.

As if choreographed, Trey and I both turn our heads in unison to Mari standing less than a foot away from our table. I try to remove my hand from under Trey’s, but he increases his grip until it almost hurts.

Mari stares down at us, her lips in a twisted snarl, an angry businesswoman in her black suit jacket and pencil skirt. The yellow blouse she’s paired it with doesn’t do her hair color justice. She’s prim and proper while I come off looking short and meek in my chair. I haven’t worn a business suit since I left Lowry, Lowry, and Fink. I’d been enjoying my new ability to be laid back… well at least until this moment. Now Mari’s here in all her armor and I’m fighting a dragon with nothing on my side but a Calvin Klein sweater.

“Mari, have you met Simone?” Trey’s voice is tight and it worries me. I don’t enjoy feeling like the other woman, and even though I tell myself I’m not, I feel as if I’ve stolen her man.

Mari leans closer with her upper body and sneers in Trey’s direction, reducing her voice. “Yes, I do believe I have. I didn’t know you weren't above sleeping with the help.” In her hand she has a larger than normal martini glass, and as she leans back, some of the liquid sloshes over the side soaking into the carpet.

I freeze at her words and try to sink into my chair so she’ll forget I’m here. Trey, sensing my discomfort, lets go of my hand and I’m quick to pull it to my lap. It's the wrong decision as the movement catches her eye and she follows it to where it leads right to me.

“Mari, now isn’t the time or place for this.” Trey keeps his voice low, but from the way his face tightens it takes effort.

She takes a jerky step back in his direction. I’m pretty sure Mari’s drunk or well on her way to being drunk. I don’t remember her having balance problems when she was in the office.

“Where is the time or place? You won’t take my calls. How am I supposed to talk to you?” Her hand sways again and a drop or two more of the liquid spills out. "Now I see why you barred me from the office. You wouldn’t want me to walk in on the maid dusting off your dick.”

I gasp at her cruel words and my mouth falls open in shock. She didn’t just say that out loud, did she?

Trey stands jostling the glasses on the table. “That’s enough.”

“You’re right. I’ve had enough of watching this spectacle in public.”

In slow motion her hand flails out, and Mari tosses the remainder of her drink in my direction. The liquid splashes on my neck and travels down into my sweater. I reach a hand up to wipe the already sticky mess from my chin, and the harsh odor of liquor follows until it’s the only distinguishable smell.

I stand, a base reaction to being doused in liquid. I can’t believe the crazy chick threw her drink on me. Mari turns and walks away through the double doors and out to the lobby where the elevator we rode up waits. Behind her our waitress stands with an open mouth, a witness to the scene. She stammers for a minute before placing our food on the table and offering to bring me a towel.

Trey looks me over and reaches a hand around my back to hold me in a half hug. “I guess we’re getting this to go.” His words are hard and flat in tone.

I worry whether it’s because we’ve caused a scene or because he upset Mari.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

I flick off the light in Trey’s hallway bathroom and walk toward his kitchen. We left the restaurant after Mari’s outrageous display, which sucks because the view was great and I’m starved. I tug on the hem of the azure button down shirt Trey loaned me while he promised to save my sweater. His long sleeve shirt is large on me, but since I’m tall it doesn’t completely cover up the plaid boxers I’m using as shorts, also from Trey’s dresser. I’m not sure why he thinks the sweater can't be washed. But working on it made him stop muttering obscenities about Mari, so I ran with it.

Honestly the man’s more upset about it than I am, and I was the one wearing a martini. A double from the amount I soaked up. I give the shirt one last tug and turn the corner to find Trey leaning over his kitchen sink with both hands submerged in the tub of bubbly water.

I lean on the entryway to the room, a little hesitant to enter for some reason. “Do you own anything besides button down shirts?”

“Yes, but button downs are practical. They have the look of casual professional expected of me with investors but can easily be made more laid back when I’m done for the day.”

My face scrunches up at his technical answer, but since Trey never turned to look at me he doesn’t notice. I guess he’s still a little upset about the Mari business.

His hands come out of the sink and he wipes off the bubbles flicking them back in the tub. I’ve never seen stain remover bubble so much, and my curiosity has me step a few feet closer until I’m looking down at the shirt as it soaks.

“Why is it so … sudsy?”

He sticks his hands back in and pushes the blue sweater down into the water from where it floated to the top. “Maybe I used too much soap.” His hand reaches to the back of the sink where a bottle of green dish soap rests on the counter.

Across the bottle big bold letters advertise it as “Concentrated grease fighting formula with EXTRA suds.” I smash my lips together so I don’t laugh and ruin all his hard work on saving the now questionable piece of clothing.

“Do you think ‘ol blue is going to make it?” I look over the sink again and a few bubbles pop on the counter edge.

“Well I have her on life support, but it’s still touch and go.” Trey walks toward me as I turn to face him. My back presses up against the counter as he wraps his strong hands around my midsection. He steps closer until I’m surrounded by Trey and the smell of his heady cologne — the fate of my sweater lost and forgotten between his comforting arms.

His hands move in opposite directions. One rests on my lower back and the other higher over the strap of my bra pulling my shirt up with it. One finger stretches out and he runs the digit under my bra strap leaving goosebumps in his wake. “Your pants are in the washer. Should I throw your bra in as well?”

I laugh at his seriousness and place a hand on his chest until he tightens his grip. “No, I think the sweater took all the damage.”

“What a shame.” He raises his hands to grip the balls of my shoulders and steps back until I’m an arm’s length away. His dark brown eyes travel up and down my body until I flush and drop my head. My heart rate picks up from his perusal and anticipation of what he’ll do next.

His attention flows through me and I cross my arms to still some of my nerves, but it only causes his lips to stretch closer to his ears as his eyes darken. The moment becomes more intense and my head moves to the cupboard beyond his head.

It’s open a crack and behind the door a sliver of neon green catches in my gaze. My eyes narrow at the piece and I squint to get a better look. Then my eyes widen in surprise. Inside Trey’s kitchen cupboard sits the neon green party cup from our first night at the tiki bar. I have a matching one in my own kitchen, but I never thought Trey kept his.

It’s a silly plastic souvenir cup, but the significance behind what it means to me is more than any words Trey could speak. Not wanting him to know he’s been caught being sentimental I whip my head back to his and wrap my hands around his back, pulling him close.

He squeezes me harder. “I hate that Mari was able to ruin our night, but I must say I like you wearing my clothes.”

His words cause a rush of heat to flow to my core, but I answer back playfully despite how his eyes make me feel naked. “Yeah? You think you look good on me?”

“In more ways than one, Simone.” He pushes on me so I’m forced to take a step back and am stopped by the counter again.

I’m caught in his advances. Trey braces himself on the counter by gripping the edge and I’m boxed in, not that I want to escape. I shiver when he trails his flat palms down my sides stopping at my hips. His head lowers to rest in the crevice of my neck, and he kisses a line at my collarbone.

“Oh, Simone. I do enjoy playing with you.” One hand sneaks up and he undoes a top button of my shirt before pulling the material back to expose more of my neck and collarbone. His lips raise on one side in a half haphazard smile I've learned means he’s up to no good.

Trey lowers his head and his tongue travels a line up from my neck until he stops at my jaw line for a quick bite. Then he finishes at the skin right below my ear. This time he sucks on a soft patch of skin we’ve recently discovered does things to me.

My body relaxes against his and I sigh as my shoulders sag. He laughs and I notice his hand travel down the front of my shirt with opened buttons left behind. He pops the one level with my bra and a single finger stretches out to trail the exposed skin on the top of my chest. My back arches out reaching for more contact.

His body tenses against mine until he steps back a fraction and both hands lower to my upper thighs. The boxers pull on my skin as his hands grab my legs under the fabric. He picks me up a few inches placing me on his counter. It’s cold against my legs where he pushed up the boxer shorts. My legs dangle over the edge and he steps between my knees widening them more.

Trey’s eyes no longer meet mine as he stares at the small portion of my exposed chest. His tongue wets his lips and I push out my chest to entice him more. He grins and then pushes his face between my breasts. His tongue trails the same area above my bra his finger did moments earlier. My hands fall to the counter behind me and I wrap my legs around his middle to keep him in place.

A few more buttons are released and then his hand snakes in the fabric opening at my stomach. The cold pushes through and chills my skin, but not enough to cool my body from the heat Trey’s created in me. He rubs my skin higher until he cups my left breast. A rogue thumb circles over my nipple and my head falls back smacking against the white cabinets. He kisses his way up until our mouths connect where his tongue traces the seam of my lips. I open at his silent command.

The buzz of a doorbell bounces off the walls of his kitchen and we both go stock still. Our mouths tear apart and my eyes widen at Trey as if we’ve already been caught in the act like school children.

Trey leans his forehead against mine and the raggedness of his breathing matches mine. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he says no one in particular.