I follow Court to his place, all the while wondering if I’m doing the right thing. But when he looked at me so earnestly, I couldn’t say no. It’s like he’s a wizard with this magical ability to coax me into doing things I might not do otherwise.
Or maybe it’s because I know that his desire to help is sincere. He isn’t doing this hoping that I’ll help him get a job with my dad or that I’ll sleep with him out of gratitude or anything like that. If he just wanted sex, there are hundreds of uncomplicated, non-sniffling women out there whose makeup isn’t ruined. So how can I not accept what he’s offering in the same spirit it’s being offered?
As promised, his penthouse isn’t too far from SFG. The place is huge, with an open floor plan that makes it feel bigger than an opera house. The deck has a pool, and when I look at the spectacular view of the city from here, I swear I can breathe easier.
“Wow. This place is amazing.”
I look up at the ceiling, where fans spin slowly. The floor is shiny marble, with a few rugs thrown around for comfort. The kitchen has all the appliances you can hope for, although from the looks of it, either Court has a dedicated housekeeper or he doesn’t cook much.
“How long you’ve had this?” I ask, curious since I swear I read he didn’t take full control of his money until very recently.
“Not that long. It was actually my brother’s.” Court goes to the kitchen and looks through the stuff in the wine cooler. “When he moved, he gave it to me because I didn’t want to live too close to the campus anymore.”
Wow. I know there are families that give each other houses, but it’s surreal for me to actually know one in real life. “Is he the one who owns the club?” I ask, remembering how he got Curie’s name.
“Yeah. He’s married and wanted more of a family home, if you can call his mansion that.”
I run my hand over a white baby grand. “This is a beautiful piano. Do you play?”
“When people overstay their welcome.”
I look at him. He looks utterly serious. A small laugh bubbles, then bursts out. The heaviness in my heart seems to vanish, and I sigh, feeling like I could float.
“I’m just babysitting this thing because my sister-in-law got a new one.”
Ah. I rifle through what I remember from the Go
ogle search, and recall that his older brother married a concert pianist. A prodigy, which gives this piano some added significance. I’ve never touched anything used by a prodigy before. Unlike Curie, I can’t play at all, even though Dad did his best to get me to learn a few pieces. I wonder if he did that to have me impress some guy, then shake my head. I don’t want to think about that right now.
Court brings a couple of glasses of white wine. “Here.”
“Thanks.” I take one, grateful for the distraction.
“One day to be angry.”
“Agreed. One day. Then I gotta shake it off,” I say, even though I’m not sure if I can limit myself to one day. But I need to try. I can’t afford to waste my life and energy on this…injustice.
I clink my glass against his and take a leisurely sip. This is an excellent wine—not overly dry, but not sweet either. Just the right balance of acidity and a lovely hazelnut finish.
I sit down on a couch, and he sits next to me. We don’t say anything...just enjoy each other’s company. Our thighs brush, and attraction sizzles at the touch. I savor it, loving the way my blood courses through my body, heavy with hormones. Court smells amazing. Curie once told me that pheromones were real, and I said she had to be mistaken—they’re stuff people make up to explain the stupid things they do in the throes of lust.
But now I understand what she meant. My body’s completely attuned to his nearness, his heat, his scent. Still, I don’t know if it’s all just chemicals. I don’t feel stupid with lust. Instead, it feels like comfort and connection. The kind that says this is a safe man—someone I can trust with more than just my body.
It all seems too fast and too sudden. How can I know Court so well? But my heart asks if there’s some set time I need to spend with him before I can be sure. Two months? Three?
We had sex within hours of meeting. And we shared two meals together. He came for me when I wanted him to—despite the fact that he could probably hear tears in my voice—and really…how much more do I need?
I finish the wine and place the glass on the low table in front of me. I don’t think I’ve ever been with a guy who I could share a comfortable silence with—being happy just by being close to him. And the way Court rushed to the garage when I called… The way he looked—concerned and anxious. All for me. We haven’t known each other a long time, but he’s done something each time we’ve seen each other to make me feel special and lovely. Is that why it feels like I’ve known him longer than a few weeks?
Slowly, I lean toward him, then wrap my arms around his neck and lick his lips. He tastes like wine we just shared.
No. Better. Warm and delicious with an undertone of hard male and a sweet, generous heart.
He pulls back slightly. “Skittles…”
I bury my nose in his neck and inhale the warm scent on his skin. “Don’t. Let me take advantage of you.”
“But—”