Authors: Elizabeth Brown
I sat there in silence, stunned. “That’s insane. I’m so sorry.”
Ryan shuddered. “It’s fine. Thanks. I spent a few years being pretty angry about it, but then one day I woke up and was like ‘You know what? He’s not on this earth anymore, and that’s a good thing.’ It’s just a shame he had to take my mom with him.”
“So the tattoo is in memory of her.”
“Yep,” Ryan paused for a moment while he considered his response. “Part of my angsty period.”
I look over at him, eyes wide. “
You
had an angsty period?”
He chuckles. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
I shake my head. “Well, I mean… it’s just—”
“What?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
“Look, it’s nothing I’m proud of. I behaved like a dumbass, did stuff I’m not proud of.”
I looked at him incredulously. “So how’d you turn out so… not fucked up?”
He tilted his head up toward the ceiling and ran his hands over his face before looking back at me with an embarrassed grin. “Lots and lots of therapy.”
It took me a second to digest his response, but then I got it. “Ah, and so the student becomes the teacher?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Something like that. It’s been a long fucking road, but it’s really helped me come to terms with my,” He used his fingers to make air quotes, “family dynamics.” Ryan looked across the elevator like he was gazing somewhere far away. “When I think about what I know now, I just…I just feel like I could have helped them, you know? But I was just a dumb kid. I didn’t understand what was going on.”
“You couldn’t have possibly—” I started. Wow. This man had way more going on below the surface than I’d imagined. My mind was going a mile a minute with questions.
“What about you? Can I ask about that?” he pointed down at the scar on my arm. “You said it was a curling iron, but…”
I looked down at the scar. I’d had it so long; I barely noticed it anymore, except when I was in front of the mirror. Then, it was a reminder of the early years. The years I’d rather forget.
“Yeah, to be honest, I don’t really remember getting it. My social worker said that when I was three, one of my foster parents was a hairdresser, and they left me alone in the salon while they ran next door for lunch. I burned myself with a curling iron.”
I looked up at his face to gauge his reaction. He looked shocked.
“Don’t look so horrified. I’m fine.”
“Natalie, a burn has to be pretty bad to scar like that. Are you sure it was just an accident?”
“Like I said, I don’t remember.” And I honestly didn’t. “I’ve blocked a lot of my early childhood out. You psychologist types would have a field day with me.”
He did not look happy with that response.
“Relax, they yanked her foster care permit, and I got placed in a new home.”
“I should hope so.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say next.
“Gosh, how’d this conversation get so dark?” Ryan said, suddenly sitting up. “Let’s change the subject. Who was that you were with the other day?”
“The other day?” I asked blankly; still stuck in the story from a moment ago.
“Yeah, on the street—Mr. Not Your Boyfriend. By the way, you shouldn’t wear skirts like that in the Tenderloin. It’s a rough part of town.”
“Skirts like what?” He’d noticed what I was wearing? I felt nerve endings all over my body start to tingle in celebration of this huge development.
He ran his hands through his hair, clearly exasperated at having to answer me. “Skirts that… short.” His voice changed again and it was tighter, rougher.
Infinitely sexier.
I liked it a lot.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware I needed to clear my outfits with my sex surrogate,” I teased, purposely trying to rile him up.
He turned toward me, his eyes darkening. “You’ve got a bit of a smart mouth, don’t you Natalie?” He gazed down at my lips, barely containing a devilish grin. “Or should I call you LeeLee?”
“Oh God,” I groaned and threw my head back against the elevator wall.
“So who was he?” Ryan asked again, this time picking up one of my hands. His hands dwarfed mine, and his voice was now full-rasp. Maybe he did still feel something for me. My heart spun at the thought.
“Just Josh,” I said, purposely remaining vague.
“Mmmhmm,” Ryan continued as he regarded my hand carefully, wrapping his fingers around it before bringing it up to his mouth. “And who is Josh?” he asked, gently kissing my fingers.
I was immobile as a tingling wave of pleasure blew through me. If I hadn’t been sitting down, my legs would have buckled. How was it possible to feel a kiss everywhere in your body?
“Natalie?” he said gently, as he moved his mouth down my wrist, leaving a trail of soft kisses in its wake. “Who is Josh?” he asked again. His voice had changed again. Now it was soft and confident.
“Sorry,” I said breathlessly, completely engulfed in sensation. “I told you… just a friend.”
“A friend, eh?” he gently rested my fingers on my thighs and moved his hand back up to my neck, tucking my hair behind my ear. I turned my neck, opening myself to him.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“He was holding you pretty close for a friend, Natalie.” He murmured, his lips closing in on mine. I was panting. I wanted more. I needed more. I wanted all of him. Right now.
“Mm. I don’t think—”
I was interrupted by a sudden jolt, and the elevator whirled back to life, as all the electronics came back on-line. The lights flickered and then we resumed what I assumed was a trip down to the lobby.
I had never hated fix-it men so much in my life.
Sure enough, a few moments later, the doors parted and a suited manager and a sweaty engineer in dirty coveralls greeted us. Ryan pulled back from me almost immediately and stood up, offering his hand. The suited manager stepped forward.
“My most sincere apologies, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews. Are you all right? Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? Something at our restaurant, perhaps?” I smiled inwardly despite my brain fog.
Mrs. Andrews
… that had a nice ring to it.
Ryan wasn’t as amused. “That won’t be necessary,” he said abruptly, any softness that was in his voice was now long gone. “Thank you.” He pulled me by the hand, leading me out of the front doors of the hotel.
Outside, the sun was blinding and I fumbled through my purse to locate my sunglasses.
“Are you sure you don’t want something to eat? He said he’d comp the whole thing.” I asked, as I finally found my aviators and slipped them on.
“Natalie.” Ryan commanded, ignoring my question. “This was a mistake. I’m sorry.” His tone was brusque and all business as he glanced down at his watch. “It’s getting late. Can we reschedule?”
I started to open up my mouth to protest, but as I did, he turned to walk away.
“I’ll be in touch. Talk to you soon, Natalie.”
Before I knew it, he had rounded the corner and was gone. It was like he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I stood there on the sidewalk, tourists and shoppers whirling around me, but I was frozen, dumbfounded.
Wait, what had just happened?
Ten Years Ago
Ryan
I looked over at the psychologist.
Psychologist.
The fact that I even had to see a psychologist and talk about my problems was so fucking embarrassing. Nevertheless, the judge had known about my family and ordered the sessions in lieu of an assault charge. My lawyer told me they were being generous and made me accept on the spot.
Assault charge.
Fucking bullshit right there is what that is. See, Ains and I were at a café not two hours after she got out of the hospital. You know, trying to enjoy a lemonade and pretend that life didn’t totally suck.
Then a fucking drunk-ass dickwad comes up to us and starts taunting her about the bandages on her wrists.
How’s a pretty girl like you got any problems
, he sneered.
What’s the matter; did daddy not buy you the right pony for your birthday?
The legacy gift from my father shows up and I start to fume. He doesn’t fucking know her. Where the hell does he get off acting like he knows half of what she’s been through?
I asked him twice to kindly back the fuck off, but does he listen? No. Instead, he gets up in her face.
So I socked him.
Now here I was, seated on an expensive leather sofa with Mr. Lets Talk About Your Feelings. He cleared his throat. “So, Ryan, how are you feeling today?”
How am I
feeling
today? That’s how this guy starts a therapy session?
Oh, I’m fucking
fine
today doc, thanks for asking.
What
isn’t
fine is that I’ve spent my formative years getting the shit kicked out of me.
What
isn’t
fine is that my mom, the one person I cared about most in this world, is fucking gone.
What
isn’t
fine is that my sister is a fucking basket case and I can’t fix it.
What
isn’t
fine is that I’ve torn through our life insurance payout because her ER bills are astronomical.
So thanks, dick, for reminding me that I was doing just fucking fine. Like how I was doing mattered at all.
I looked up at him, my eyes cold.
“I’m fine. Everything’s just peachy.”
“Peachy.” He nodded and wrote something on his notepad. “Okay, let’s talk about that, Ryan.”
I rolled my eyes. These sessions were going to be torture.
Present Day
Ryan
I got home and slammed the door behind me. Luckily, it was the middle of the afternoon, and I had the house to myself. I tore down the hall, slamming doors and pounding on walls as I headed for my room.
Once safely in the confines of my bedroom, I pulled off my clothes, throwing them onto the floor on my way to the shower. Turning the cold handle on full blast, I stepped in. The icy water felt like a thousand needles against my hot skin and I braced myself against the tiled walls. This was exactly what I needed— to remind myself that what I had just done was not just wrong, it was beyond wrong. It was so wrong, I didn’t even know if there was a word for it. It was a pure fucking disaster. An ethical nightmare. And the worst part? The worst part was that it felt so… right.
So fucking
good
.
There was something about being around Natalie, about touching her soft skin— it did something to me. Something I didn’t quite understand yet, but I knew it was growing into more than I could handle. My mind washed back and forth between feelings of pleasure and guilt. Hell, I’d learned all about sociopaths from my classes. Was that what was going on here? Was I just a sociopath, trying to create my own reality, picking and choosing what to pay attention to? Had I turned into an abhorrent Grade-A asshole, just like my dad?
Fuck.
I stayed under the cold water until my heartbeat returned to normal and my cock calmed down. It was true what they say about cold showers. I turned off the water and grabbed a towel, wrapping it low around my hips as I caught a glance of myself in the mirror. Staring at myself in disgust, I contemplated how this was all so fucking backward. Natalie deserved more, more than someone who was a ticking ethical time bomb.
So what the fuck was I going to do?
Natalie
It had been twenty hours since I’d been trapped on that elevator with Ryan, but I still couldn’t shake the memory. I was still trying to piece together exactly what had happened— one minute we were teasing each other, and the next I was caught up in something that I was pretty sure was against the rules. Ryan had instigated it, but then turned and practically ran away a few minutes later. I didn’t get it— how could he just turn it off? Or did he feel nothing— was it all in my imagination?
All of this served to make me more confused than ever.
And I still hadn’t had any sex!
Isn’t the girl supposed to be confused
after
the sex?!
“Natalie?” A perky voice came from the direction of my office door.
“Oh, hey Paulina.”
“Are you coming to the brainstorming meeting?”
“Yes, I…” I searched my desktop for my notebook.
It had to be here somewhere. Dammit, not again.
This was the third time in so many days that I’d misplaced something before an important meeting. My notebook had all my market research notes in it. I
had
to find it.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, I just can’t find my notebook. Have you seen it?”
“The red one? No, I haven’t…sorry. Hey, I can lend you some paper. Come on, we’re going to be late. You know how Cathy is.”
We’d quickly learned that the new head of marketing was a stickler for punctuality. She’d locked one of the junior designers out of a meeting last week because they were late, and none of us wanted to be the next one to feel her wrath.
“Okay. Fine. Thanks.” I got up and we rushed down the hall toward the conference room.
The beginning of the meeting was rather dull. Cathy had brought the PR and Marketing teams together to brainstorm ideas for next year’s ad campaign. We reviewed the quarterly sales figures and ad campaigns of the last two years, teasing out ideas on what worked for our audience. After that, Cathy started soliciting us for ideas for next year’s campaign.
“Now remember guys, don’t feel like we have to stick to what we’ve been doing,” she said, gesturing to the screen. “Clearly, that hasn’t been cutting it. I want to hear every idea, even if you think it’s silly.”
Everyone around the table started to pipe up.
“Angels?”
I tried not to roll my eyes.
Like we hadn’t done that for the last two years in a row.
“Clouds…something with clouds?”
Cathy wrote the ideas on the whiteboard.
“The Devil,” someone deadpanned. It was Lars, one of the graphic designers. He was a goth. Go figure.
“The Devil?” Cathy asked with a chuckle.
“Yeah, you know, like the opposite of Heaven. Do everything dark and evil.”
“I guess I did say every idea...” She sighed, turning back to the board.
Lars’ suggestion suddenly gave me an idea. Something about this conversation was finally hitting home. “Wait,” I said as I sat up a little taller. “What about ‘The Forbidden’?”
Cathy turned back to me, and a smile crept across her face. “Tell me more.”
“Well, lingerie ads are all about women’s fantasies, right? And what makes something even more enticing? When it’s forbidden.”
“Like sex in public places,” chimed in Josie, the normally demure PR assistant. “Or with your boyfriends best friend.”
All of us turned and shot her a startled look.
“Not that I’ve done those things. I meant just as examples!” she quickly added, her face flushing. For that, I felt for the kid.
Cathy pointed her dry-erase marker at the group and raised her eyebrows. “Now you guys are thinking like a lingerie company.”
We carried on for another forty-five minutes, and by the end of the meeting, we’d mapped out our next nine months of strategy, focused around—you guessed it— ‘The Forbidden’. Cathy grabbed me as everyone was shuffling out of the conference room.
“Natalie, hang on a sec,” she said as she waited for the room to clear. Once the last of the staff had filed out, she continued. “Great job today, I really liked what I was hearing. I knew I put the right person on the audience development project. Keep it up and you are going to have a lot of doors open for you.”
I closed my eyes for a split second, savoring the unexpected compliment. “Thank you Cathy, that means a lot. I’m excited to get to work.”
I really was unbelievably fortunate. Cathy had taken a chance on me, despite the huge employment gap on my resume. I knew I had to do well and not squander this one opportunity I had.
I headed back to my office, and Paulina was there waiting for me, twirling around in my desk chair.
“Enjoying yourself?” I joked, as I walked in.
Paulina looked at me, her eyes wide. “Are you kidding? Is that all you can say?” she exclaimed, standing up and vacating the chair. “You killed it in the meeting today!” she lowered her voice, conspiratorially, “What did Cathy say?”
“Oh, uh, just to keep up the good work…” I walked over to my seat and collapsed into it.
“Seriously though, good job. The Forbidden… very clever, Nat. Don’t know
where
that idea came from…”
I stared at her frozen, and for a second my thoughts went to Ryan. Then I realized no, of course not. She meant Brad. She
always
meant Brad. I sat back and sighed.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t you have some magazine writer to pester?” I smiled, not giving into her attempt to get me to talk about Brad. I silently wondered if she knew about our coffee date that evening.
“Hey workaholic, put down the keyboard.”
I looked up from my computer. Brad was leaning against the doorway of my office, his tall, athletic frame taking up a good portion of the space. I immediately surmised he would look equally good in the doorway of my apartment, and perhaps my bedroom as well.
Nerves mixing with hormones resulting in unpredictable and overly sexual thoughts… Just another day as Natalie Reese, A.V. (That stands for Antiquated Virgin, by the way.)
“Oh, hey Brad. Hang on, let me just send this email—”
“You know I could shut down your computer remotely, right?”
I pressed send and sat back. “Sorry.” I offered an apologetic smile.
“Are we still on?”
“Yes! I mean, yes, definitely. What time is it?” I said, massaging my neck with one hand.
“Six.”
“Shit. Sorry. I’ve been caught up in this campaign brief. You should have come and got me.”
He smiled and the area around his eyes crinkled. “It’s okay. I figured it was probably better to let everyone go home before we headed out. You know, to avoid being news around the water cooler tomorrow morning.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
I chuckled. “Good thinking. Just let me finish this email and grab my bag. Can I meet you in the lobby in five?”
“Sure. See you down there… and Natalie? Don’t think about standing me up. I know where you work.”
I used the five minutes to frantically prep myself for my date. I don’t know how I’d managed to lose myself in work, because truth was, I was insanely nervous. It had been years since I’d done this. Thankfully, I was very close to getting this virginity thing over with. I was supposed to have taken care of it the last time I’d seen Ryan, but circumstances got a little… out of control. However, last night I jotted down the timetable for our remaining sessions and determined that as long as Ryan and I did it at the next meeting and Brad didn’t try to sleep with me for at least a week, I’d be in the clear. Clear to continue with him in a way befitting a thirty-year-old woman.
Wink, wink.
Once I’d applied an extra coat of mascara and a new swipe of lipstick, I was on my way. When I got to the lobby, Brad was standing there, looking right at me, on his phone. He grinned as I walked up to him.
“I gotta go. Talk to you later,” he said, closing his phone and pulling me into a hug.
“Who you talking to?” I asked as I let myself fall into him. Mm. He smelled good. Some kind of subtle, musky cologne. “You better not say your girlfriend.”
He looked down at me and then released me from his embrace. “Natalie Reese, I hadn’t figured you for the jealous type.”
“Oh, we haven’t even been on a date, and you think you know me?” I quipped as he took my hand and headed toward the lobby doors.
“No…” he said slowly, “But isn’t it obvious? I’d like to.” He brought my hand up to his mouth and gave it a small kiss.
It was a good kiss, but he was an even better hand holder. Yep. All warm and strong and very… male. He held my hand tightly as we made our way across the street to the local Starbucks, and only after getting our drinks did we let go, as we settled into a table on the sidewalk. It was still light outside and the air was just starting to cool as the fog rolled in.
“So…” I said, staring at his fancy whipped cream topped drink, “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Strawberry Frappe?”
Brad closed one eye and grimaced, looking a bit ashamed. “Yeah. I know. Don’t say it. I’m fully aware it’s a chick’s drink.”
“Hey, I wasn’t going to knock it… it’s just— yeah. It’s a chick’s drink.”
“Yeaaahh… I don’t really drink coffee.”
“Why’d you ask me out to coffee then?” I asked.
He paused, considering my face before responding. “I guess I’d read that girls see coffee as a good non-threatening first date.”
“Ah.”
“My little sister introduced me to these,” he took a long drink from his straw, “and honestly, they’re delicious. Wanna try some?”
I laughed and waved my hand. “To each his own,” I said picking up my iced decaf black coffee and offering it as a toast.
He ‘clinked’ his cup to mine and then sat back, his eyes trained on mine.
“I have to admit, I was a little bummed to see you order decaf.”
“It’s after four o’clock. That’s my cutoff. I have to stop otherwise I can’t sleep.”
He sat up and leaned in to me, placing his hand on my knees. A shiver of excitement ripped through me at his touch. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
I flushed. Well, no one would ever say he wasn’t direct. “You move fast, Mr. Valentine.”
“I know what I like, Ms. Reese.”
“And what’s that?”
“You.”
My face heated again. Why did I ask that question? I was playing right into his trap! Such a virgin mistake…goddammit.
“Brad?” A tall slender woman with auburn hair approached us. “I thought that was you.”
Brad cleared his throat. “Diana, hey, what are you doing here?”
“Just getting a jolt of caffeine before hitting the gym.” She looked over at me.
“Diana, this is Natalie.”
“Hey.” I offered my hand.
She ignored it and continued to act like I barely registered to her. “So, Brad, maybe I’ll see you at Zeki’s this weekend?”
“Maybe.”
She glanced down at me again before running a hand down Brad’s arm. “Well, I’ll be there on Saturday night. Don’t forget, you owe me a drink.”
And with that she left.
“Sorry about that,” Brad offered once she was out of earshot.
“Old girlfriend?” I asked, although strangely, I didn’t feel that threatened.
“Hardly. Just a bad mistake.”
I nodded. The whole one-night-stand was still a very foreign concept to me. I really didn’t understand how people could just meet someone and an hour later go to bed with them. I didn’t think I’d ever get to that point, no matter how good I got at this sex thing.
“You nervous?” Brad asked, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Sorry, no, not really,” I plastered a smile on my face and tried to pep up.
Brad took another sip of his drink. “It’s okay, you know. You’re very cute when you’re nervous Natalie. I don’t get to see much of that at the office. You’re normally so cool and collected in there.”
“Oh?” My throat ran dry and I took another sip of my drink.
“Which reminds me,” he started. He lowered his voice. “I heard about your idea.”
“What idea?”
“The idea you had in the marketing meeting. About the forbidden?” He’d leaned in even closer by now, and I found myself doing the same, hanging on his every word.
“Right,” I whispered, immediately remembering my conversation with Paulina. I knew without a doubt she was the one who had told him about it. “So?”
“So… I guess I was wondering…were you talking about me?”
About him? Oh. Because we work together? I looked across the table at him and I knew he was expecting a yes. I stalled, trying to find my words.
“Did you want it to be about you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want you to think I’m off limits.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
He sat back and smiled. One of those big Hollywood, perfectly white, straight teeth, eye crinkling smiles. “This is—”