Reach Me (9 page)

“What? I—well—I guess because I felt like I wanted you. I needed you to talk to. You’ve been a big part of my life.”

“And you’ve been a big part of my life too.”

“I feel like the man I’ve been chat friends with forever and the man I met in your office are polar opposites. How can that be, Russ?”

“You’re right.”

His admission feels like a hard punch to gut that has left me winded and gasping for air on the inside. I knew it! I knew that my Russ and Logan Barnett were two different men.

“You agreed to give me thirty days to prove to you which of the two is the real me and that’s exactly what I intend to do. I’ll prove it to you, Linds. Let me prove it to you,” he pleads, more of a demand than a request.

I nod my head and look down at my feet, not really knowing what else to say to him. He scares me so much. I’m afraid he’s really some asshole in a suit who squashes people under his thumb for a living and I’m worried I’ll discover that he’s this incredible man who has been my closest and dearest male friend for all these years. If he is the man that I’ve always known, then my heart stands no chance whatsoever. I’ll inevitably fall one hundred percent in love with him, putting my heart in jeopardy once again. The difference between that kind of heartbreak and the ones I’ve faced in the past is that a woman like me doesn’t land a man like Russ, fall in love, lose that man, and recover from it. I wouldn’t recover from that. Even the idea makes it difficult to breathe. If I lost him, I’d lose more than the man I’ve come to love, I’d be losing a person that is a cornerstone in my life. Without his support, his kind words, his presence in my life over the past ten years, I would’ve crumbled. The structure of my existence would be compromised and I fear that even gravity would be far too formidable of an opponent. I will crumble without him.

“Stop thinking and dance with me,” Russ commands as he lifts a remote from the serving cart and presses a button. A soft piano ballad fills the air around us and despite the smooth, relaxing strains of the chords, my chest tightens.

He takes my hand and leads me closer to the open space near the windows, maneuvering me in a semi-circle so that I’m facing him. His hand glides lightly over my cheek before he takes my hand in his and pulls me to his broad, lean chest. His other hand rests lightly against my lower back. My eyes slip shut and I fight hard not to melt into him. He moves us with ease in small circles all around the makeshift dance floor. If the entire 30 days are going to be like this, I should really reconsider the entire deal. If this is what I have to contend with, I’ll be confessing my love within two weeks and that’s simply not an option. It would ruin everything.

“Relax,” he whispers in that deep voice of his.

“I can’t,” I whisper back.

Russ stops just as the song comes to an end and looks down at me. “You have to trust me, Linds. It’s just me. You. Us. Our chat room just got bigger. And three dimensional.” His thumb and forefinger grasp my chin and tilt my head further back so that I’m looking up into those pools of intense green. “And a lot more intimate.”

My heart speeds. Butterflies take flight by the masses. My resolve weakens and in this moment I want nothing more than to kiss the man who has kept me so enamored all these years. My breathing becomes choppy and shallow. Russ’s pupils dilate and take on that passionate look from before. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, but I can’t help but wonder if he feels how I feel on the inside.

I lift my hand and place it over his heart only to confirm that he too has a racing heart. I lick my lips and do nothing to control myself. I want him so badly. The tingling between my thighs is raging, begging for attention that only a man can pacify. It feels like ten years of pent up feelings are culminating inside of me. I mean, how many women would be able to refuse him in this scenario, this man that I’ve known for a decade but only just met? Am I justified in what I feel, in wanting him, or am I just acting like some sex-deprived doe-eyed slut? Thoughts of Trey and his question about me being “easy” pop into my mind but I squash them right away. Fuck this! I’m doing something for me, taking something that I’ve wanted for a very long time. I deserve it.

“Tell me what you want and it’s yours,” he breathes huskily.

“I want… I want you. I want all of you,” I reply, feeling desperate and driven by my desire for him.

Ten
years of desire that is culminating right now. Right where I stand.

Russ seems nearly pained by my confession. His hands cup my face so lightly it’s as if he’s afraid to hurt me. “Say it again,” he whispers, his eyes shut.

“I want you. I always have.”

Russ opens his eyes and gives me one tentative look. It’s
that
look that screams
I’m about to kiss you so stop me now if you don’t want this!

I do nothing to stop him. I don’t want to stop him. My brain may be screaming “Run, fool, run!” but my body is practically begging “Please.”

Russ bends his head and brushes his soft, full lips against mine feather light; it only stokes the fire burning within me. I lean further into him, silently asking for more, for as much as he’ll give, for all of him. He leads me, deepening the kiss to proportions that I’ve never experienced. His lips are soft but firm against mine. His tongue slips over my lips and I open for him. He wastes no time sliding his tongue painfully slowly into my mouth, caressing mine with his. My fingers dig into his muscled back a little. Russ’s hips thrust forward against mine just enough to elicit a moan from me. It seems to encourage him because his kiss becomes faster, harder, fervent and demanding. His hips roll forward against mine in sync with the dance of his tongue. Evidence of his desire presses against my stomach each time he thrusts his hips forward.

God, I want him.

Russ breaks away from me and both of us work at catching our breath. His cheeks are stained pink while I feel like mine are burning red hot. He runs one hand through his hair and looks at me with one very clear question in his lust-filled green eyes.

I nod my head yes and Russ pulls me to him hard for one more quick kiss. He fishes his cell phone out of his pocket and presses keys lightning fast, then grabs my hand and tugs me back in the direction we came, through a door and down a dimly lit hall.

Russ jabs his finger at the call button beside the elevator and the doors slide open right away. I’m pulled in behind him, held close to his side while he pounds a button on the control panel. The moment the doors shut, I’m pinned up against the wall, my legs wrapped around Russ’s waist. He plunders my mouth, his desperation palpable, making the air in the elevator thick and weighted. I moan as his hips make thrust after thrust into my center, his hard length teasing my slick, needy flesh.

“Please.” An involuntary whine escapes my mouth just as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors chime open.

Russ folds my hand in his and tugs me forward. I glance around, trying to figure out where we are. It’s some type of foyer, I think.

“This is mine. I use it for guests mostly, but I stay here sometimes too. The dining area were we just were is mine too,” he explains as if he read my mind. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me as close to him as he can manage. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you. I was worried it wouldn’t happen, so thank you for not having a better job.” Russ smiles that same boyish grin from dinner and I’m putty in his hands.

“I’d love to say you’re welcome, but unfortunately my lack of luck is all natural.” We both laugh at how our meeting finally played out. I guess it was all fate.

All laughter subsides when Russ threads his hands through my hair, pulling my mouth to his. “Stay with me tonight?”

“I’d love to,” I agree, suddenly consumed with butterflies all over again.

“Dance with me some more,” Russ says, stepping away to press a button on some control panel on the wall.

He has unbuttoned a third button at the top of his shirt, showing just a glimpse of skin. I can’t look away. I nod as soft music fills this huge space and his arms enfold me possessively but gently. He pulls me as close to his body as he can and guides us into a slow dance. My breathing halts when Russ brushes my hair off my shoulder and drops a tender kiss on the spot between my neck and shoulder. The gesture is purely intimate, and despite my head screaming for me to back away, I liquefy under his masterful touch. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply. He looks so relaxed and so in this moment.

I wish my mind would stop warning me that this is a mistake. I wish I could relax and let things unfold. I shove away my own personal fears and allow the fire that burns between us to fight back the negative train of thought that seems so intent on dominating this entire night.

We dance for a long time in silence. Songs fade in and out but we never stop dancing. The warmth of my body pressed to his seems to have silenced any lingering worry about broken hearts and ruined friendships. I can hear only the music. I can smell only Russ’s intoxicating scent. I can feel only his lean body holding mine. I can see only his tempting green eyes. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of us. He leans forward, cupping my face with his big hands, and presses his lips to mine. This time it’s not a wild, lustful kiss. I can feel his longing. His lips kiss me deeply, passionately. I moan into his mouth and flex my fingers against his back, squeezing his muscles.

“Russ,” I murmur against his lips. I squeeze my thighs together to mollify the aching need that seems to be growing more intense by the second.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I answer with a sincerity that surprises even me.

He grabs my hand and makes long strides across the living space which I assume is a penthouse suite. I can’t imagine him having anything but the best. The only light spilling into the space is coming from the huge floor-to-ceiling windows lining the entire far wall. The wattage from the strip below has cast an intimate glow all around this place.

Russ stops in front of what must be the bedroom door and swings it open, kissing me again. The lighting is muted and pours in from the strip like the rest of the penthouse. It’s difficult to say what color the walls are because everything is bathed in the soft glow from the lights below. There is a large bed center against the wall. A huge bed. Bigger than any bed I’ve ever slept in. Everything about this room boasts wealth and I try hard to keep feelings of inadequacy at bay.

I reach for Russ and slowly unbutton his shirt, doing my best to calm my shaking hands. I pull the tails of his shirt from his pants and push the fabric off his shoulders. His gaze stays locked on me. My eyes skate across his bare skin, taking all of it in. His bare chest has a dusting of dark hair across it that I can almost feel against my chest.

His hands hold my hips tightly as he rocks his hips into mine, the erection in his pants begging to be freed. I reach for his pants as Russ reaches for mine. Our breathing begins to come out fast and choppy as we undress each other. I unzip his jeans and tug them down. Russ crouches down and pulls the heels from my feet one at a time, then tugs my jeans down my legs. He’s even more gorgeous from this vantage point. He turns me to face his bed, his fingers digging into my hips as he presses himself against my ass. My shirt is pulled up over my head, leaving me in only my panties and bra. His hand rests against my back between my shoulder blades, encouraging me to lay forward across his bed. He teases me more with hard grinding motions against my ass and I can’t helping moaning as arousal consumes me. Hot, wet desire gathers at my center and drives me to moan and whimper, desperate with want. I want nothing more than for Russ to be deep inside me, claiming my body with his.

He leans forward until his chest grazes against my back. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his fingers skating over my skin near the clasp of my bra. With one flick from his fingers, the elastic springs free and I can feel the weight of my breasts against the bed. Russ peppers my spine from the nape of my neck down to the small of my back, effectively transforming me into a writhing, needy mess.

He turns me to face him again so I’m standing before him in only my black cotton thong. His eyes glide over me for a long minute before he sweeps me back onto his bed with ease. He hovers above me, watching as I hesitate, becoming more and more nervous as I worry about how sex with him could screw everything up.

“Stop thinking so much,” he whispers in my ear, planting kisses down my neck beginning at my earlobe.

The connection between us has been so palpable all these years and it has only intensified as the years have gone by. That bone deep connection is why most of me feels like this is so right.

Russ nudges my thighs apart with his hand and I open myself to him, spreading wide to accommodate his hips. He settles between my tremulous thighs and rolls his hips into me. I moan and writhe beneath him, watching as he lowers his head and begins kissing my jaw down to my chest. He licks and kisses, slowly making his way to my heavy breasts. His powerful hands knead my breast as he covers my taut nipple with his hot, wet mouth. He licks and flicks my nipple, teasing, and then sucks hard, drawing my sensitive flesh deeper into his mouth. I draw in a sharp breath, reveling in his every move, twining my fingers in his hair and holding him as he continues his work on my breasts. My back arches, my hips undulating against him, begging for more. His hands roam freely over my curves. I run my hand down into his boxer briefs, feeling the muscular globe of his ass as he flexes into me.