Floor Time (14 page)

She arranged her face into a frown, coming up with excuses to escape.

"I suppose, but I'm going to yoga at six tomorrow so I wanted to be home early."

"Yeah, you like the sweaty hour and a half of torture?" he ran a finger down her cheek, jaw, neck.

"No, but I can already see the benefits, so I'm gonna keep going." She moved away from him, sat down in his other chair.

She needed something from him she knew damn good and well he'd never give her. He could play at controlling, dominating, being the master of her body but the Jack Gordon that she knew did not make emotional connections with women, only physical ones. She realized she should get far away from there before she sunk any deeper. All her own brave talk about merely wanting the base connection with him she'd thrown at her brother was lost in a haze of desire for something more -- something she swore she'd never, ever expect from a man.

He stared at her, confusion evident in his face.

"What? Let's go, I'm starving. I haven't eaten since the fruit bowl this morning."

 "You know what, Jack; I'm going to pass on the afterglow dinner." She reached down to adjust her shoes, gathering her Old Sara together to resist the temptation to drag out their "date."

"Um, okay, that's cool."

Damn. Stop looking at me like that or I will let you fuck me again, I don't care who watches.

The words "Don't expect more from Jack than what's on the surface," careened around in her head. Her heartbeat refused to slow. This was her chance. She should take it. Tell him how she really felt. Tell him... what? A familiar panic rose in her throat.

Why can't it be simple? Why can't you open your mouth and speak?

But her need for space overwhelmed her desire to go anywhere else with him.

"You sure? I wanted to try out this new place with you, my little hot pepper lover."

It was her turn to grin.

"Yep, but thanks anyway," she grasped the tie that he now had draped around his neck, pulled his mouth to hers for a tantalizing final kiss. She broke it off, turned on her heel, and exited, not looking around to see who was watching.

Waving at the remaining agents gathered around a computer, Sara breezed out the door, only barely resisting the extreme temptation to turn around and race back to him. While Old Sara congratulated her on her resolve, both Sara's missed the rare look of disappointment and frustration that crossed Jack's face as he watched her leave.

Jack braced himself against the doorjamb and watched her sashay out, his heartbeat still ringing in his ears from that monster climax. Passing a hand over his face, he eased back inside and shut the door. The room held the essence of their lust, and he took in a deep breath of it, wanting to hold it in his memory banks. One word surged through his brain: mistake.

Huge, colossal error in judgment. He never should have done it. She wasn't ready. Hell, he wasn't ready. He obviously was no fucking good at it anymore if he couldn't even get her to stick around after they'd gotten off. He wanted to talk, to feed her dinner with his own fingers, to take her home with him.

Damn the woman.

He stood, stretched and relished the deep relaxation in his back and hips that only a truly gargantuan orgasm can offer. Every deal was important to Jack, and he sensed the same thing about Sara. When that piece of shit appraisal had hit his inbox, he couldn't resist a little thrill of excitement, knowing they would have to work together to fix the potentially colossal problem.

He had tried to tamp down his rising desire at having her in his personal space again, focusing on the task. But when he smelled her perfume the minute she walked into his building, he knew he was a goner. He wanted more than anything to see that well-fucked face again, and decided he was going to make it happen.

He had forced himself to stay away from Sara since their little picnic. The scary sense of falling down a dark hole, of losing control, of letting go and giving in to her completely was something he couldn't face.

So, he dealt with it in the way he'd adopted in years past. Push it away, far away, and stay the hell away from the woman causing it. He'd spent a boring Fourth of July with a few buddies up at Torch Lake, fishing, drinking, and poker -- a regular sausage fest. Usually time with his friends set him straight. Two were still married and constantly moaning about their wives, one was divorced but with a new girlfriend no one liked. Jack was their torchbearer. The guy they lived vicariously through. But the weekend did not have the desired effect on him at all.

He had spent most of the time composing his next text to Sara, relishing their sexy contact via the phone. He loved controlling her that way, but knew it was as much for his benefit as hers. He wanted to picture her going about her business, but ready for him. Actually, it was all he did lately, which pissed him off and made him want her more. He was a walking, talking hard on the entire time, relief only coming in the shower or first thing in the morning, thanks to his good friend Lefty left hand. He took endless ribbing from his buddies, but would emerge from his room or the bathroom and flip them off before grabbing another beer.

"Knocking the edge a bit more than usual, eh Gordon?"

"Jesus, I gotta see this girl Jack, wanna share?" The general nature of the comment from the peanut gallery did nothing but aggravate him.

But with her in his office, it had taken all he had to not sweep her up in his arms, to hold her tight, beg her to go home with him. He could not for the life of him figure out why he didn't, but the look on her face had forced him to remain nonchalant. That look -- skeptical, cynical, somehow reading him for his usual shallow prick persona -- it stopped him cold. He had no one but himself to blame.

He should never have gone there with her. That part of him -- the part that got bone shattering release from being on top, from mastering a woman, body and soul -- it was dead; killed in the flash of realization all those years ago, in the hard depths of one woman's eyes, the sound of her laughter. As he made his way to his car, the smell of Sara on his skin, memory of her sweet pussy tilted up to him, of her offering body to his control, caused his cock to stir under his trousers
.

Christ, I haven't been this constantly horny since I was senior in high school. 

All he had in his head on the drive home was the gut-deep need for Sara. He wanted her, in his life, in his bed. He was counting the days until he could get inside, truly inside, her again.

The computer screen she'd been staring at for an hour blurred in front of Sara's eyes. Rubbing one with the heel of her hand, she stood, giving up in disgust. The cute new guy, Craig, had been helping her with a presentation, using listing information straight from the computerized multi-list system employed by realtors to find and search the housing market for data. But it had hit a glitch and wouldn't let her download for some reason, which had set her back nearly an hour on a hot Friday afternoon.

As the agent "on floor," Craig was called to the front to meet a potential client who'd wandered in off the street. The Stewart Realty downtown office was designed as sort of a decoy. From the street, it was set up to look like a small coffee shop, with an art gallery, occasional live music and classy, comfortable seating options scattered around the front room.

The high ceilings were exposed to the rafters and very expensive lighting made to look haphazard and casual. The actual offices remained hidden in the back, behind the receptionist's desk. Up front, flat screen TV's stayed tuned to either news or sports, but smaller screens, visible from the sidewalk on a very busy downtown street, displayed professional listing videos. People were curious at first, but now that they understood it, the office got all sorts of foot traffic, as people were encouraged to bring in their sack lunches and to open laptops in the space. The carefully selected realtors who populated the office were consummate, yet understated, sales people, knowing when to sit and chat, or leave people alone.

It was a groundbreaking concept in an age when more and more real estate offices were "virtual." Aside from actually showing houses, most of the work could be done on a laptop creating reports, or on a smartphone setting appointments. At a time when most buyers found their realtor at a random open house or by sending an inquiry email from a listing on Realtor.com, finding ways to connect personally remained tough. So why not create a space that the Stewarts knew would be a loss leader at first. A space potential clients started to associate with ultra-professional sales people. A relaxed and inviting atmosphere they could even rent out for private parties; not designed to generate a profit for about six or seven years and by that time the place would be a well-established Ann Arbor entity.

The very attractive receptionist was also a licensed realtor who knew when to hit the buzzer under her desk to summon the agent on call, or when to let the people wander, sit, drink the free coffee or filtered water, and leave them alone. It worked. After four and a half years, it had become one the top-producing offices in the formidable Stewart Realty Empire. An inordinate amount of luxury and super-luxury homes got listed and sold by the agents within it and Sara was no exception. The report she had been trying to generate would garner a listing the potential sellers had valued at two-point-five million, but thanks to the software, Sara was struggling to justify at just over half of that amount.

As she rounded the corner and ran her hand down the wall where Jack had taken her that first night, Sara's scalp prickled. She frowned, angry at the constricted feeling in her chest when she pictured his compelling face, inky black hair and deep blue eyes. Shaking her head to stop his image from rattling around inside her skull she turned the corner as Chris, the receptionist, headed the other way. The two women laughed when they nearly collided and Sara couldn't help but notice the admiring eyes of the young girl as she looked at Sara. Everybody must know about her and Jack. There was no way to keep secrets in their small community. And Jack had a big goddamned mouth, Sara knew, so likely had bragged far and wide about fucking her in the hallway, at the open house, and in his office.

 "Hey, Sara, can you come help Craig," the young woman asked. "He's about to sustain claw marks out here."

"Sure, but what can I do?" She peeked around the corner. Spying the young blond man who had every female in the office swooning seated next to an attractive older woman on one of the couches, she started to turn back and tell Chris that Craig could handle himself and needed to learn how to use his amazing good looks to his advantage. When she saw the woman place a hand on Craig's navy blue clad thigh. She saw him flinch and look straight at her, his eyes pleading for help.

She stifled a giggle as Chris pushed her into the room. Craig stood, his knees hitting the table in front of him as the woman in the dark designer jeans and tight polo shirt that highlighted her ultra-toned form kept her eyes glued to his ass.

"Darling," he declared, holding out a hand for Sara and motioning with his head for her to come closer. She smiled and played along, taking his hand, letting him pull her close to his body, tucking her under his arm.

"Carolyn, may I introduce you to my partner," he leaned down and planted a kiss on Sara's lips. "In real estate and now," he kissed her again. "In life."

Sara glared into his deep brown eyes, but went along with the show. She turned to Carolyn, and put both arms around Craig's slim hips, resting her head on his shoulder before releasing him and shaking the woman's hand.

"So pleased to meet you Carolyn," she purred. "How can we help you?"

* * *

The two of them giggled like a couple of middle school kids after waving at the woman's retreating back. She'd signed a listing agreement with them for her million-dollar marital home in order to downsize into a three-quarters of a million dollar downtown condo. Craig pulled Sara in close, holding her, murmuring into her hair.

"You are amazing."

Sara remained in the circle of his arms a minute longer before pulling away.

"Yeah, gee, darling," she held his arms and stared at him. "Nice one."

He shrugged and brushed his too-long blonde hair from his forehead.

"Well, it was either get engaged to you, or let her rape me in the broom closet," he admitted. Sara loved that he actually colored a little at that.

Damn he was adorable
.