“No matter what my professional goals, Naomi, I told you that I wanted you, and I do. So when I have my tongue in your pussy, or when I’m sliding my cock inside you over and over again, or when you let me fuck your mouth, anything that is between me and your uncle is absolutely irrelevant.” His words spark images in my mind, and I’m so turned on that I’m halfway to coming. He moves his hand from my ass and slides it up my thigh, underneath my skirt. “Does that makes sense now?”
“Yes.” It’s really the only word there is. Whatever the question is, the answer is yes. “I’ve never done anything like this, you know.” I’ve never let anyone this close, never let anyone touch me like this in public. It’s dangerous and addictive and hot.
“Baby, I know. That’s what makes it so much fun.”
His fingers find my clit, and I’m so wet that my stocking and panties may as well not be there at all. His thumb starts rubbing rhythmic circles, and the friction of the fabric and his fingers has me about to break. The door opens, and Andrew smoothly reaches up to the cupboard around me to get a cup as his hand disappears from under my skirt. In seconds it’s as if nothing happened except for the fact that I was denied an orgasm, and I could absolutely kill the woman who just came in for coffee, totally oblivious.
Andrew pours his own cup of coffee, smirking at me. Holding back a scream of frustration, I head for the door. I can’t believe I let him get to me like that. Damn him for being so perfect, and so good. And damn his logic for actually making sense. Damn him for not making me come. Damn him. Damn everything.
“Don’t forget your coffee,” he says when I’m almost to the door. He saunters over and hands it to me. “We all deserve some small pleasures that we’re actually able to finish.”
With the image of his smirk burned in my mind, I head to my car and run away again.
Chapter 7
I swear that this morning had been a good morning. It really had been until Andrew showed up, making me want him. And just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, now there’s smoke pouring out of the hood of my car.
It’s another ridiculously hot day, and I’m hoping that the car is just overheated, but this also means I’m going to be late for the meeting at the Sterling Estate. Won’t that be lovely.
I pat the roof of my car, sad at the thought that this might be the end for it. It’s nothing special—just an old blue sedan I bought secondhand—but I’ve had a lot of moments in this car. Plus, my car is the only real place where I feel like I can sing and compose in safety. My uncle doesn’t want to hear it in the house, and I can’t afford a rehearsal space or studio time. Gas is cheaper, so I go for drives listening and singing and making mental notes of melodies for later.
The tow truck is on its way, but it won’t be here for another hour, go figure. That’s what happens when you’re in the middle of nowhere, Florida. At least I’m stuck on the edge of an actual road and not on the edge of a swamp. There are far too many of them in this state.
I lean against the car. It’s way too hot to sit inside without the air conditioning on. Outside there’s at least a chance for a breeze. A couple of people have slowed down and asked if I need help, but I’m fine, really. I haven’t called my uncle yet. I’m going to wait till the last possible second to do that. There’s always a chance of a miracle, like maybe the tow truck will show up early and I’ll get to the meeting on time. But the chance of that is about the same as the chance of an ice cold drink appearing in my hand right now.
There’s another car on the horizon, but sadly it’s not a tow truck. It’s a sleek black car, and it’s slowing down. I get ready to wave them off, and force another well-meaning person to abandon their good deed of the day. Instead I curse. Loudly.
No. Fucking. Way.
It’s Andrew. Andrew is in the car.
Of course he is, because he has to be at the meeting too. Of all the people I wanted to show up right now, Andrew fucking Finch wasn’t one of them. I’m already so confused about him, I don’t need him saving my ass on top of it to make me feel grateful and indebted to him.
Damn it.
And of course, he’s got that smile that makes my heart do little flips plastered across his stupid face. He pulls over, sliding up behind my car, and gets out. “Need a ride?”
Yes, so that I’m not late. “I should really wait here for the tow truck.”
He comes over and stands in front of me. “Are you saying that because you actually want to wait, or because you don’t want to get in the car with me?”
There’s nothing but curse words filling my mind as I stare at the dirt. Why does he always seem to know what I’m thinking, and why does he always seem to see me at my worst? Without warning, I start to tear up. Great.
“Hey,” he says, with real concern in his voice. “Naomi, it’s going to be okay.”
“It’s not that,” I say softly. “It’s just…everything. And you always seem to show up when something’s going wrong. At some point I’d like you to see me when I’m not sweaty or failing or covered in ink.”
Andrew puts his hands in his pockets. “First of all, ink is a really good look for you.”
I laugh a little, still not looking up at him.
“Second…do you know what I liked most about the copy room?”
“The fact that I was practically naked from the waist down?”
“No, that was a bonus. I liked the fact that you were fixing the copier at all. I don’t know of any paralegals in that firm that would have gotten down on their knees and wrinkled their clothes to try to solve the problem on their own. Why do that when you can just call maintenance?”
I shrug. “What’s your point?”
“My point,” he says, reaching out and tilting my face up so I can see him, “is that things happen. Life is messy. It’s okay if other people see the things that go wrong sometimes.”
“That’s easy for you to say when you’re always playing the white knight.”
He smiles, not a grin, but a full and beautiful smile. “Everyone needs a knight from time to time, even though I’d hardly cast you as the damsel in distress.”
He leans down to kiss me. It’s sweet and soft and a perfect moment. An entirely different kind of kiss from the passionate hunger we shared before.
“Now, come on. Let me drive you back. We’ll deal with your car later.”
He’s right. I’d rather deal with the car later than face my uncle’s anger. Plus, after a kiss like that, there’s no way I’m not getting in Andrew’s car. I take a couple of minutes to cancel the tow truck and grab my things from my backseat, making sure that my car is locked. Andrew’s car is much nicer than mine, but I still miss my beat up seats and squeaky windows. It’s almost too quiet in here. I like that I can hear the sound of the road in my car.
I try to relax, knowing we’ve got at least an hour drive ahead of us. We’re silent for a while, but it isn’t a bad silence. Just peaceful.
Finally breaking it, Andrew asks, “Why do you work for your uncle?”
I laugh. “Well, the short answer is that I don’t have another choice right now.”
“And the long answer?”
“It’s not that interesting,” I say, trying to deflect him off of the subject.
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He’s smirking now. “I just figure that we should start to get to know each other, given what we’ve done so far. Things I don’t plan on stopping, by the way.”
I blush, and turn to look out the passenger window, hoping that gives him the idea that I’m done with this subject. It doesn’t.
“I’ll go first if you want. I grew up in New Hampshire with my mom, Dad left when I was ten. Had a pretty typical school experience, but I thought I wanted to be an architect. I thought they were cool, and the idea of designing something so permanent that could possibly change the face of a city appealed to me. Turns out though, I’m not a great architect, and I like people too much to be cooped up and hunched over a table. So I switched tracks and here I am.”
“That’s not the whole story, though,” I say, watching his face for clues as I call him out. “You’ve risen too quickly at Grayson & Wates for that to be all of it.”
“Richard Wates was the one who hired me as an associate. He liked me, decided to mentor me. I learned a lot from him, and he promoted me when he felt I had learned enough. Making me a senior partner was one of the last things he did before he retired. I’m surprised you know about that, though.”
“My uncle has talked about you.”
“Probably not good things.”
I shake my head. “No. Not good things.”
“All right, your turn.”
I shake my head. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Fine. My parents died in a car crash when I was sixteen. I didn’t have any other family, so my uncle took me in. It was either him or the foster system. He and my father were not on good terms, so it wasn’t exactly a thing he did out of love. I moved out as soon as I turned eighteen, and went to Los Angeles. I wanted to be a singer. I worked as background singer and a songwriter, but I could never really get anywhere with my own stuff. Finally it got to the point where I couldn’t pay the rent, so I had to ask my uncle if I could come back and live with him while I got my feet under me.” I gloss over exactly how bad it got, and how much I didn’t want to ask him for help.