Before You: Standalone Contemporary Romance (12 page)

He spoke with a sleepy voice. “The first night I was exhausted from traveling. The second night I was drunk. The third night I was at the bar with you until after midnight. Then in a holding cell on the forth, and the fifth night I was awake the whole time because you freaked out and locked yourself in the other room. So I’m really tired. Go to sleep.”

“Fine,” I whispered, closing my eyes and relaxing against him, feeling his warmth and his strength, against me and around me. It felt so incredibly safe to be in his arms, and without having the chance to analyze any further, I fell asleep, and honestly, it was probably the best I’d slept in years.

––––––––

A
hand between my legs.

Lips sucking gently at my ear.

My mind woke slowly.

There was a smile on my face as I stretched against him and reached my arm behind me, sliding my fingers into his hair as I turned my head and his lips moved hungrily to my mouth.

I felt his hard arousal, pressing into the back of my thigh as his fingers worked their magic between my legs and his tongue worked its magic in my mouth. I moaned and arched against him.

So close.

“Lift your thigh and tilt your ass back, I’m going to enter you from behind,” he whispered in my ear, his teeth pulling at my lobe as I did what he asked, giving him access to push his thickness into my depths.

“Oh. God,” I moaned. The angle meant that his long cock was pushing right into my G-spot, and with his fingers back to working my clit, I was shaking around him in no time, my moans growing louder as he continued to slowly glide back and forth, keeping my orgasm going with his fingers and his strokes.

“You’re so fucking tight like this,” he strained. I could hear the shudder in his voice as he let go, and feel the pulse of his cock inside me as came into my depths, holding himself inside me until our shudders subsided, and he slowly withdrew his shaft.

“I guess this sleeping arrangement has its perks. You were right about morning sex.”

“When it comes to sex, I’m always right,” he murmured into my ear. I turned to him with a smile and he caught my mouth in his, kissing me softly, languidly. There was an intensity to it, and it felt...it felt like...more. And I placed my hand on his jaw, smiling as I pulled back and made my excuses to get out of bed.

A look of confusion flitted through his beautiful eyes. “You need to stop freaking out.”

I picked up my robe and wrapped it around my body, still smiling. “I’m not freaking out. I have to shower and get ready for work.”

“Your alarm isn’t set to go off for another half hour.”

I looked at the clock. It was six-thirty. “I’m not freaking out.”

He sat up and pulled his black boxer briefs on. “It’s OK if you are. Things are intense between us.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Then why aren’t
you
freaking out?”

“Who says I’m not?”

“The fact that you just kissed me like...like...”

“Like what?”

I looked him in the eye for a beat before I answered. “Like you meant it.”

“I do mean it,” he responded immediately. “I feel...a lot.W. When I’m with you.”

“It’s too much. This is all too much. And it’s too fast.”

“Do you want to back off?”

I ran my hands through my hair. “I have known you for less than a week. We’ve fought five times and fucked at least ten – and that’s just in the last three days. You kiss me like your life depends on it, and just then, you kissed me like it
mattered.
We’re supposed to be getting this out of our systems – not making it more intense.”

He took a step toward me. “Listen, I don’t want this either. I don’t want to feel so obsessed by this girl I just met that I’m basically a walking hard-on thinking about her. I
need
to kiss you like that, because if I don’t, I’m
never
going to get you out of my system. And the longer that takes, the closer we’ll get. And I don’t want you getting close to me. This needs to be over, sooner rather than later, and while you make my dick excruciatingly hard by just standing there with your arms folded, the only way I can see out of this is by fucking every which way possible and kissing you like I’ll die without it. That feeling isn’t going to last. We give into it now, and pretty soon it all becomes normal. Eventually, I’m going to go on assignment and when I get back, we’ll be more interested in checking Facebook than we will be in tearing our clothes off each other. Passion doesn’t last.
This
won’t last. We give into it now, and later, when it fizzles, we’ll both shake hands and go our separate ways, feeling relieved that it’s over.”

He made so much sense. I was so used to running the moment things got intense that I never saw anything through to the point where things got boring. But I knew they did. The married girls at work complained that their husbands were more interested in watching sport than they were in spending time with them. We could get to that point. We could burn through this feeling and arrive at a point where our interactions weren’t quite so desperate and intense. This attraction was so new.

Fighting it was only going to make it last longer.

“Join me for a shower?” I said in response, and I watched as a grin spread across his face.

“
Gutes Mädchen
,” he said with a smile as he followed me into the adjoining bathroom.

“When I’m through with you, you won’t be thinking I’m such a good girl at all,” I replied, smiling as he wrapped me in his arms then kissed me the way he had before. It curled my toes, stole my breath and made my heart so light that tears came to my eyes.

Breathe.

***

“D
ave, hi,” I said into my cell as I pulled toast out of the toaster and dropped it on two plates. André moved in and began to butter them while they were hot, and I moved over to pour coffees. “How’s Africa?”

“Great. We’re back in Johannesburg for a few days. How are things with you?”

“Everything’s fine. The movers came and loaded up all your stuff. André and I flew back to LA and that’s basically it.”

“Do you still hate him?”

I grinned as André handed me the carton of milk. “No. He’s all right.”

André raised his brow at me and pointed to his chest, mouthing ‘are you talking about me?’ I nodded and waved him away just before I handed him his coffee.

“Told you he was a good guy. Look, it seems as though we might be finished up earlier than expected. We got some great footage. So we’re going to go over it and see what else we need. But I might be back by Thanksgiving.”

“That’s great, Dave. Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Will. How’s everything with you? I didn’t get time to ask when we talked last. Is work OK? Are
you
OK?”

“I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“I know helping me move was a huge ask. Thanks for being there for me.”

“My pleasure, Dave.”

“Listen, is André there? I want to talk to him for a minute.”

“Yeah. He’s right here.” I handed André my phone, and he frowned at me for a second before taking the cell and pressing it to his ear.

“Dave,” he said, his hand lifting up to run through his golden hair as he took a few steps away from me. “Everything’s fine...the truck should be here in a few days...OK...Of course...I give you my word.”

When he disconnected, he handed the phone back to me, and I lifted my brow. “Your word?”

“He just wants me to take care of you.”

I frowned. “And keep your hands off me?”

He shrugged. “There may have been a mention of that.”

“And yet, you still gave your word.”

His face took on a curious expression. “I never claimed to be the good guy here, Willa.”

I watched him thoughtfully as he held out a piece of toast to me, wondering what it was that had him thinking he wasn’t good. Biting it first, I took it from his hand then continued to watch him as I chewed.

He stood across from me, eating his own toast and drinking his coffee as he looked out the window and commented on the weather. He was up and down with his moods, sure, and he could be an asshole when he wanted to. But, I didn’t get the sense that he was
bad
in any way. I just saw him as a man who knew what he wanted and took it without feeling the need to explain or apologize. And as far as I was concerned, that was the best way to be. I could probably take a few lessons off him.

I downed the last of my coffee then rinsed out my cup. “If I’m going to beat the traffic, I’d better get going. Do you need a ride in?”

He held his coffee mug in front of him as he thought. “Sure. Can you give me five minutes?”

I nodded. “I’ll be waiting out front with the car running.”

He took less than five minutes, and when he came out of the house, he was carrying a laptop bag and was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white linen button up. It was crushed and the buttons were half open, but damn, he wore the crap out it. My mouth went dry as I watched him make his way toward me.

“He is most definitely still way in my system,” I said to myself, just before he got into the car.

“Did you say something?” he asked as he shut the door.

I leaned forward and turned the music up on the car stereo. “I was just singing along to this song.”

His mouth curved into a grin as the lyrics to Rihanna’s ‘Bitch Better Have My Money’ filled the space.

My cheeks blazed.

“Someone owe you money?” he asked with a grin as I rolled my eyes and turned it back down before I backed out of the drive.

André reached out and turned it back up and started singing along himself, which, with his accent, was hilariously funny.

I added singing in the car to the list of things I liked about André. It was growing rather quickly.

––––––––

“I
’m getting ready at your place tonight,” Milly informed me as we walked toward the conference room that Friday for the morning meeting.

“Why? Because there’s a certain German you’re interested in who’s staying at my place?”

She smiled and looked at me over her shoulder. “Am I that transparent?” She batted her lashes.

“Yes. You are,” I deadpanned, pulling my cell from my pocket and typing out a quick text as I held it surreptitiously by my side so she couldn't see.

Me: Don’t be home tonight. PLEASE.

I switched it to silent then held it screen against my thigh. Almost immediately it buzzed in my hand.

“You don’t mind though, right? You’re not interested in him?”

I flipped the screen over and saw the message on the screen.

André: ?

“Me?” I laughed. “Not at all. Besides, he’s hardly ever home. I doubt you’ll run into him.
I
hardly run into him and I live there.”

Me: Please. Will explain later.

Milly looked at me just as I slipped my cell back into my pocket. I smiled, hoping she didn’t see.

“Maybe you could ask him if he wants to come out? He’s new in town. It’s only polite.”

She kept pushing, and I felt my chest grow tight at the thought of watching her, or anyone for that matter, flirting with André. I thought back to how I’d felt when he was with that girl Amanda in Chicago. I hated that, and I hadn’t even slept with him then...

“Who’s new in town?” Catherine asked as she fell into step beside us and obviously caught the tail end of what Milly said.

“Willa’s new roommate, the German Hottie. I’ve called dibs,” Milly informed her.

Catherine’s eyes widened as she looked at me. “You have a hot German roommate? How hot are we talking?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but didn’t get the chance, Milly cut in.

“Take every male model we’ve ever featured in this magazine and multiply them all by ten. He’s
gorgeous.
”

We rounded the corner and went into the meeting room, lining up to grab a coffee before we took our seats.

“If he’s that hot, I hope you’re taking advantage of having him under the same roof,” Catherine said beside me as she stirred sugar into her coffee.

“I called dibs,” Milly reminded her.

Catherine shrugged. “Maybe. But Willa is living with the guy. She has more opportunity, and the good Lord knows that if anyone needs it date, it’s her.”

My mouth dropped open. “I’m standing right here,” I said.

At the same time, Jasper arrived. “Who needs a date?”

Milly and Catherine turned to him in unison. “Willa does.”

“Stop!” I hissed. “Just. Stop.”

Giving me looks that said they were just speaking the truth, Milly and Catherine took their coffees to the meeting table and sat down. I made a move to join them, but stopped and turned back to Jasper.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said to Jasper. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”

He smiled with the side of his mouth. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I wasn’t really listening.”

I smiled at him gratefully, taking in his clean-cut appearance that had been the main reason I’d thought he batted for the other team – so to speak – in the first place. He had blond hair that was cut in a fashionable undercut and always swept to the side securely with product, and he wore tailored pants and vests with designer shirts rolled perfectly up to his elbows. He was always immaculate, his square jaw with a slight cleft in his chin was shaved clean, he always smelled as though he’d recently stepped out of a shower and his smile was, well, perfectly straight and white. Add that to the fact he worked for a fashion magazine aimed at women, and you could excuse me for misunderstanding that his style was metrosexual and not homosexual.

My cheeks heated as my error really settled in, and I realized how much I’d been leading him on because of it.

“You going tonight?” he asked, still smiling.

I was staring at him. This was getting uncomfortable.

“Oh, uh, yeah. You?”

He nodded. “I might see you.”

Our boss, editor in chief, Vivienne Archibald, walked in and clapped her manicured hands to get everyone’s attention. So without any further discussion, we took our seats and the meeting began.