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I imagine peeling her legs apart and tasting her, drowning in that perfect flavor and making her scream while my tongue is inside her. And after she comes—more than once—then I’ll take her. It’ll be soft and slow and it’ll take as long as it takes for it to be perfect for her. But just envisioning entering her, feeling her heat surround me, brings me to the edge.
Plunging into her in the way that no one else has ever done, fuck. Pleasure gathers and explodes, and I brace myself against the wall of the shower as I spend myself into the heat of the water. Pulses of sheer heat crackle through me and I groan. It’s not enough. Not nearly enough to sate the way I’m feeling, the way I want her.
I could go again, but I do need to get to the office. Unfortunately. Most of the time I don’t hate my job. But this time of year…I wish I could take off and just spend it in the Bahamas. Not only does every system we have in place seem to fall apart, but I just can’t stand this time of year.
While I’m in the middle of dressing, my phone vibrates on the nightstand. It’s Bianca, and I answer. She doesn’t wait for me to respond. “You must have done something truly amazing last night if you’re late to work. You of all people.”
I smirk, knowing what I know. But Bianca doesn’t need to know the details. “How do you know that I’m late?”
“Because I’m standing in your office.”
“Fuck,” I say under my breath, and she laughs. “Fine. I went out with Sally.”
I can practically hear the smug smile that she has on her face through the phone. But she doesn’t say that she told me so. “That’s good. You deserve to have a little more fun, brother. You work too hard.”
I look through my ties, trying to pick one. “I might get to have a little more fun and work a little less if you actually came into work…ever?” Bianca does help sometimes, when she feels like it. And I don’t resent her not being involved. She doesn’t love the business side of things the way I do. But at times like this, when it feels like I’m the only one who’s keeping everything from falling apart, it grates.
“I’m doing plenty of work,” she says softly. “I’m keeping Mom sane, and you know as well as I do that that’s not exactly an easy task.”
I sigh. “I deserved that.”
“I didn’t say it to shove it in your face, Eric. It’s just the way things are.”
“I know. How is she? Any different?”
Bianca makes a non-committal sound. “She’s…prepping.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I stayed over last night to make sure that she was okay and that this party isn’t a sign of something, and she kicked me out this morning because she needed to prepare for the party.” She sounds frustrated.
“But the party isn’t until tomorrow night?”
“I know,” she says. “Which is concerning. If she needs more than a full day to prepare than this party is going to be bigger than I thought. She’s trying to make it huge.”
Shit. I hadn’t even realized that I voiced that sentiment until Bianca says, “Yeah.”
This is about me. It has to be. My mom thinks that I’m unhappy after what happened with Susan and everything else. She doesn’t seem to understand that I’m fine. That if it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen. But it’s going to happen at my own fucking speed. I’m comfortable enough to recognize that I’m stubborn, and people rushing me just makes me want to slow down even more.
Except for the fact that if I do things the way I want, my mother might spiral again. Think that I’m doing worse than I am and then we’ll all be in a world of trouble and pain. I can’t see my mom like that again. I can’t.
There are few things in life that are as shaking as seeing the vulnerability and mortality of your parents. And once you see it, it’s hard to ignore. “What am I supposed to do here?”
“I’m not sure. Just showing up with a date at all will go a long way to soothing her, I think,” Bianca says. “But also make sure that mom knows that you guys just met. Setting her expectations so that she doesn’t think that it’s more than it is.”
I sit down on the bed, scrub my free hand across my face. “I just don’t understand why she can’t let either of us have time. Accept that things happen naturally.”
“Things happened naturally with her,” she says. “And look how that turned out. I don’t really blame her for thinking that maybe the more aggressive approach is the way to go, even if she is misguided.” There’s a pause, and I can almost hear her thinking. “We’re all she really has left, Eric. She doesn’t want what happened to her to happen to us. For her, seeing us happy is the only goal that she has left since the rest of them are gone.”
“I hate it when you’re right,” I groan.
“That’s why I make a point of being right so often.” I roll my eyes and put the phone on speaker as I finish with my tie. Bianca continues in a different tone of voice. “So tell me how it went last night.”
My cock stiffens at just the thought of Sally. “It was fun,” I say, keeping my tone light. “She’ll do well at the party.”
Bianca snorts. “Okay. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”
“If I’m ever actually going to make it to the office, I need to go,” I say.
“Fine. I’ll probably still be here when you get here.”
“Maybe try using your own office,” I say.
“I’ll consider it.”
I hang up and grab the rest of my things, before leaving. Last night Sally and I didn’t make any concrete plans other than her accompanying me to the party. But I don’t think I can wait that long. Besides, I told her that I would take care of whatever she’s going to wear for the party. Just seeing her will help calm the overwhelming urge I’m feeling to ditch the office and find her now, convince her to play hooky with me while I take her to bed and show her just how good sex can be.
I pull into my reserved spot in the garage and pull out my phone.
Are you free today?
I don’t think I’ve ever watched a phone so closely, keeping the screen in the corner of my eye as I head inside. The text bubbles pop up right away.
I have a job interview at ten. But after that I am.
Perfect.
I want to see you, and we need to find you something to wear for the party.
You’re going to take me dress shopping?
I think you’ll find that I have remarkably good taste.
The elevator chimes and Jennifer looks up from her desk. She’s my assistant, but she’s stationed at the elevator so she can be an unstoppable force in front of those people—and there are more than you would think—who try to come and see me just because they feel like it.
“How bad is it?” I ask her.
“It’s been worse.”
I sigh. “That doesn’t mean that it’s good.”
“No,” she says with a grim smile, “but easily manageable. I’ll forward everything to you.”
“Thanks.”
My phone buzzes.
Okay. Where am I meeting you?
I don’t respond right away because Bianca is still in my office. Sitting at my desk. “I thought I suggested you go to your own office?”
“But yours has a much better view.”
I roll my eyes and make sure that she sees. “I’d give you an office with a good view if I thought that you would actually come and work every day.”
“Fair enough,” she says, because we both know that that’s not going to happen.
“Do you still own Aurelia’s?”
Bianca frowns. “Yes. Since when do you care about couture?”
I laugh, sitting across from her, and feeling distinctly strange sitting on the wrong side of my office. “Can you make an appointment for noon?”
Her eyes narrow. “Why?”
“I told Sally I would take care of what she was going to wear for the party. She’s free today, and we don’t exactly
have a lot of time left.”
A knowing smile creeps across my sister’s face as I glance down at my phone, even though I know she’s not going to send another message yet. “You’re talking to her right now? I think you might be head over heels for her if you’re still texting her. And you went out for drinks. And you’re taking her shopping.”
“I’m not head over heels,” I say, even though there’s a twinge in my chest that tells me that I’m not exactly being honest there. I’m definitely infatuated in a way that I haven’t been since I was a teenager. And I’m not inclined to stop the feeling. I really didn’t think that I would ever think that I would feel this way again. Not after Susan. Not after Dad. “I can’t be. I’m not that kind of guy.”
Not the kind of guy that makes rash decisions and changes the lives of people around him without any regard for their feelings.
“You’re not him, Eric. It’s not even close to being the same thing.”
I hold up a hand. “We’re not talking about that.”
It’s her turn to roll her eyes. “Whatever. But I don’t really care, at least if you like her it’s not like you have to spend time at the party being miserable. Maybe you’ll actually have a good time. Or you’ll be able to pretend like you’re having a good time.”
I stand, pushing aside the discomfort that blooms in my chest. “I have to make some calls and make sure we’re not going to have any more catastrophic delays. You could find something more productive to do than teasing me about a girl you set me up with.”
“My days are always productive,” she says with a grin. “I just think I have a different measure of productivity than you do.” She stops in front of me as I’m going to sit at my desk. “Don’t ignore something that could be good just because you’re afraid of the past, Eric. I want you to take as much time as you need, but there is such a thing as too much time.”
Her voice is soft, sympathetic, and I have to look away. Bianca has always been able to call me out on my shit, and the fact that she’s accusing me of wallowing isn’t something she does lightly. Again, that discomfort rises and I don’t want to think about the fact that she could be right, yet again.
