I follow her every direction, moving my thumb a little faster, then faster still with each orbit I make.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she moans, her noises making me hotter. A deep pull of pleasure curls around my spine, the signal that I’ll be losing it any second too.
Then she slides down onto my chest, her tits crushing against my pecs while her whole body shakes. Her cries rip through my bedroom as she shudders beautifully.
That’s all it takes for me to combust and join her. The world beyond these walls ceases to exist. Euphoria takes my body as its willing prisoner.
A few minutes later, after I’ve disposed of the condom, I’m still catching my breath, and so is Bellamy.
She hasn’t moved. She’s splayed on the bed, running her fingers through her hair.
I settle next to her, pressing my naked body against her warm skin. “So . . . was that not too bad?”
A sex-drenched smile paints her lips. “It was so not bad.”
“Good. Maybe our understanding can include another round in the morning.”
And somehow our understanding turns into a sleepover.
34
Two Kinds of People in The World
It’s company meeting time in the office five or so days later.
Coco settles into the comfy purple couch with a cup of tea. I flop down in a trendy bean bag chair.
Why have a worky-work office when you can have a party room?
That’s what Rory said when she helped decorate after the “lost days of Easton,” as she called those months following Anna’s death.
Now, I use this space in the brownstone office I rent in Gramercy Park as the brainstorming room for planning parties. The next one is bearing down on Carpe Diem next weekend.
I scan my tablet, and review some of the key details for the warehouse event, doing my best to avoid thoughts of the last time I visited the warehouse. Not because those thoughts are unpleasant—they’re too pleasant to linger on during a meeting.
“You should review some of these applications that came in over the weekend,” Coco says, swiping on her tablet.
“How are they looking? Do we have some top-notch choices for guests?” I hear myself and cringe. I’ve said the words many times, but this is the first time I’ve thought about how they may sound.
I set my iPad on the table and shoot Coco a level-with-me stare. “Am I elitist?”
Laughing, she reaches over to pat my knee. “Darling, of course you are. The very nature of these parties is elitist.”
But I’m reeling at the realization Bellamy might be right.
“Is that a problem, though?” I ask, bracing myself for Coco’s assessment.
She picks up her tea and takes a sip. “Is it a problem for you?”
Peering through the glass, I watch New Yorkers scurry by, phones pressed to ears, race-walking through the day. So many people—so little time to meet the love of your life. I provide this city and its inhabitants the chance to find their heart’s desire.
On the other hand, the parties aren’t for everyone, and Carpe Diem doesn’t offer a cheaper option. That’s never been an issue before, but should it be?
“I’m not sure, Coco,” I say pensively.
She gives me a knowing look. “You’re thinking about what Bellamy said on her podcast, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I sigh. “Is it that obvious?”
“Like you hired a skywriter to spell it out across the sky,” she says.
Her words ripple through my brain and bump into what Bellamy said about how love should feel. “Do you think love should feel like it’s written across the sky?” I ask my grandmother.
She gives me a look that says oh, you foolish child. “If it doesn’t, what’s the point? You might as well spend your time on life’s other pleasures. Hot chocolate, a fantastic Broadway show, good sex, a night out with captivating friends. I don’t accept mediocre in any of those areas, so why would I bother with mediocre love?”
I study her expression for a moment, then ask, “Is that why you haven’t been serious with anyone since Grandpa?”
Her husband died nearly a decade ago, and she hasn’t had a steady boyfriend since. Only dates and, well, lovers.
She sets down her mug. “Why do you think I haven’t?”
“I honestly don’t know. You seem happy with life. Loving it. Eating it like a peach.”
“I’m quite content with the peaches and life’s other pleasures.” Her smile turns soft but a little sad. “But I know how precious that kind of love is, how hard to find. I had written-across-the-sky love with your grandfather, and I haven’t found it since.”
Those last words surprise me. I hadn’t thought she was on the market for love again.
“Are you looking for true romance?” I ask.
Her gaze is far off and a little wistful. “Darling, we humans are always looking. That’s how we’re wired. But are we ready to handle it if it comes our way?” She studies me intensely through cheetah-style glasses. “I wouldn’t turn love down if it came my way.”