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“We’re not there yet. We’ve narrowed it down to three, and we’re going to map out ideas for them and see which takes us in the right direction.”
“Which three?”
“Power, adventure, and orgasms.”
“Well, we know those three combined did well for those Fifty Shades books.”
“This is true.”
He tilted his head. “You read those?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“Loved them. Women love a fantasy.”
His eyes never left mine. “It’s after business hours, right?”
I looked down at my watch. “I’d say so.”
“You into that sort of thing?”
The color on my face answered the question. I avoided meeting his gaze as I stared down, twisting my bracelet. “I don’t think so. But I’ve never actually tried it.”
Forcing my eyes up to his, I asked, “How about you?”
“Not something I ever gave any thought to myself. But I could see the appeal of tying a woman up, having her vulnerable before me—a certain element of power for both people, in a way.”
His eyes fell to my throat when I swallowed.
“Maybe seeing my pink hand mark on her pale skin…on her ass, the inside of her thighs…” He paused, staring at my wrists. “Bound, a blindfold, maybe a toy or two.”
“Thought you said you never gave any thought to it?”
“I didn’t.” He waited until our eyes locked. “Until today. Didn’t get shit done thinking about your tiny little wrists and how much I look forward to seeing them tied to my headboard someday.”
Just then, my cell started to buzz. I looked down, seeing the name, and my eyes flicked back and forth between Chase and my iPhone. He wasn’t going to give me any privacy.
“Excuse me one second.” I swiped and answered. “Hello?...Yes, I’m almost done. Why don’t I meet you there?…Okay. See you in a half hour.”
“Date?”
“I’m meeting Bryant for drinks.”
Chase’s jaw tightened. He nodded. “Have a good night, Buttercup.”
Chapter 8
Reese
I had sex on the brain.
It just wasn’t Bryant I wanted to have it with.
We’d had two drinks. I told him all about my new job, and he actually listened. Now we were sitting at the bar, and he put his hand on my knee.
“I was thinking…how about we go down to the Jersey Shore this weekend? A weekend on the beach, dinner at a shack that sells cold beer and clams by the bucket? My friend has a place down in Long Beach Island, and he isn’t using it this weekend.”
I loved the beach, and a clam bar and beer was totally my thing. Yet…I was hesitant to commit on the spot for some reason. I needed time to think about it a little more. “Can I get back to you in a day or two? We just started this big project I’m working on, and they may expect me to come in over the weekend. I’m not really sure yet.”
As usual, Bryant was a good sport. “Sure. Of course.”
We called it an early night after that since both of us were early risers. Back at my apartment, Tallulah, that damn ugly cat, scared the crap out of me when I walked in. The sound of my collection of deadbolts unlocking had become her personal Pavlovian call to action. The living room was dark except for two bright green globes staring directly at me. She was perched on the top of the back of the couch waiting for me when I flicked on the lights.
“God, you really are ugly as sin.”
“Meow.”
“I know, I know, you can’t help it.” I scratched my fingernails on her back. It felt so odd without any fur. “How about if I get you one of those little cat sweaters? Maybe something sleek-looking and black? Or maybe something with faux fur on it, huh? Would you like that, ugly girl? You need some fur for this Butterball-looking body.”
“Meow.”
I carried her with me as I did my daily entry ritual—opening all the closets and doors, checking behind the curtains and under the bed. Finding all clear, I took a quick shower, moisturized my body, and climbed into bed. Tallulah hopped up and planted herself on the pillow next to me.
After a fourteen-hour day at a new job, followed by two martinis, I should have been tired. But I wasn’t. I was…horny. My problem could have been easily remedied. I was certain all I had to do was invite Bryant back to my place, and he would have gladly taken care of my needs. Yet I chose to be alone.
Tallulah purred next to me, then hit me in the face with her paw. When I ignored her, she did it again. The second time, I took a paw to the nose. Giving in, I reached over and scratched her fleshy pink belly again. She rolled on her back to give me full access. With her paws drawn and bent at her sides, her arms and legs looked like wings. She really did look like an uncooked turkey. Reaching over to my nightstand, I grabbed my phone and snapped a couple of pictures I intended to email to my mother in the morning, but then I remembered the message Chase had sent me the other night about Tallulah.
