Grand and Franklin.
Chad.
Before I talk myself out of it, I scramble to my feet and squeeze out the door before it closes all the way, myfar-from-watertight boots landing directly into a slush puddle.
I shiver and my boots squeak as I cross Franklin and jog up two blocks to stand in front of Chad’s apartment building, its twenty stories of glass gleaming in the streetlights like an iceberg. I brush the melting snow from my shoulders, adjust my purse strap, and attempt to shake the street water out of my boots before I walk to the front double doors and press the buzzer. One door opens, the doorman nodding as I enter, his long black coat lint-free and snuggly warm in the heated foyer.
“Hi, Stuart, I’m here to see Chad,” I say, my wet boots sounding like a hungry rodent chasing me through the lounge toward the elevators. “Chad Bartley. Sixteenth floor…”
The doorman grunts his disinterest and lumbers back behind his desk. I would think that coming here at least once a week for eight months would get me some sort of polite response, but Stuart is a hard nut to crack.
“Once I have my own key fob, we’ll stop meeting like this.” My laughter skips across the concrete floor and leather chairs, landing flat at his feet. “Not that I expect Chad to give me a key. I mean, it’s been long enough for everything to start feeling serious, but we haven’t talked about it like that. Keeping it relaxed, you know. No big titles or anything. Don’t want to scare him off.” I hold up my hands like bear paws and claw the air.
With a yawn, the doorman crosses his arms over his barrel chest and leans back in his seat.
“Okay, well, it was nice talking to you, Stuart.” I let out another shrill laugh and escape into the elevator. I press the button for Chad’s floor and pull outmy phone to text him that I’m on my way up when a wave of coquettishness stops me. “Make it a surprise.” I smile, pushing my hood back and doing my best to smooth down my hair. “Something to turn this shitty day around.”
The elevator comes to a halt, and the doors open soundlessly as I press my cold fingers to the skin beneath my eyes, willing the post-cry puffiness away. Unlike my shoebox apartment with its paper-thin walls and baseboard heaters that cost a fortune but never get the place above sixty-six degrees, Chad’s building is warm. Warm and…empty. I look up and down the deserted hallway, my stomach flip-flopping with another racy idea.
I bite my lip and shrug out of my coat. If there’s one thing that can take my mind off the disastrous pitch and my complete and total career failure, it’s getting laid. A grab-the-headboard, wake-the-neighbors bang session is exactly what I need to get out of my head. My own kind of sex magick. Again, I check my surroundings, my cheeks already hot with the thought of taking Chad for a ride, and unbutton the row of pearl buttons along the front of my dress to shimmy it down.
Footsteps sound in the distance, and I collect my dress with one hand and drape my coat and bag over my shoulder with the other as I rush to Chad’s door and press the doorbell. My heart races while I wait, looking down at my mismatched bra and panties.
Doesn’t matter, I tell myself.I won’t have them on for much longer.
“Plus, this vibe is so hot. Chad is going to die.” I suck in my belly, stick out my boobs, and tilt my hips in theperfect pose, completely empowered and emboldened by my sudden surge of sex appeal.
Who needs a job when my boyfriend’s making bank and has a gorgeous apartment in the city? I bet he asks me to move in. This will totally push him over the edge. Screw brand management. Screw the expensive degree I’ll never pay off. I can take a break from work. Find something new. Figure out my passion while I play house girlfriend and pretend to clean in nothing but a tiny black apron and heels. God, that would be a nice change of pace.
The door swings open, and a juicy wave of Dior Sauvage wafts through the air, mingling with the subtle scent of sweat and skin as Chad leans shirtless against the doorframe. The sight of his bare chest, hard abs, and the deliciously sharp sex lines that create a perfect V disappearing beneath his jeans sends a tantalizing shiver down my spine.
“Hey, baby,” I purr, holding my dress up in front of me before dropping it on the floor.
His blue eyes flare as he whispers my name. “Oh, Hannah…”
I let my coat and purse drop, the soft thud when they hit the hardwood barely registering as I close the space between us and press my bare skin against his. My hands wander along his waxed chest, his firm muscles rippling under my touch. My fingers trail lower, teasing along the waistband of his denim.
“I need you. I need you so bad, baby,” I murmur and kiss the corner of his lips, my mouth tingling with the anticipation of his tongue brushing against mine.
“Is it Nobu?” a voice calls out, high and bright and distinctly female.
I tense, my blood chilling, my fingers halting around the button of his jeans. The woman tucks herself under his arm, her fiery-red curls falling across his bicep. I snatch my hands away and stumble backward, taking in her flushed cheeks and bare legs like porcelain stems stretching out from under his signed Jay Cutler jersey.
Chad’s eyes find Red, and he gives her a smile before returning his gaze to me. “You should have sent me a text, Hannah.”
“I should have…What?Chad, you—you—” I stutter, taking another step back, my boots squeaking against the floor. “I’m not even allowed to touch that jersey.”
My thoughts spin, a violent tornado of questions and—
“Oh, fuck,” I mumble, a black cloud of realization settling over me. “Oh,fuck!” I step into my discarded dress and try to yank it up and hide myself from Chad and his…his… “You’re cheating on me?”
He tilts his head to the side, his sandy-brown hair falling over his creased brow. “I thought we were on the same page, babe. We’re nottogetherlike that.”
Red leans against his shoulder and offers me a pitying smile as I struggle to get my arm into the sleeve, before—
Fuck it!
I bend over and grab my coat and purse in an attempt to cover myself. “I thought…I thought we were serious. It’s been eight months.”
