There's Something About Her, A Manhattan Love Story (12 page)

“Look at me,” he demands.

I open my eyes to connect with a gaze that takes my breath away. In this moment, it’s him and me. My job, his girlfriend, our risky decision doesn’t exist. Shit, I’ve gone too far.
 

Vincent crushes his lips on mine and grunts in my mouth when he comes.

Firelight sets the mood. I can’t hear the storm anymore. For a moment, I wonder if it’s passed. Vincent rolls me on top of his naked body and embraces me. I scoot down to listen to his heart. I’ve had sex with thirteen guys, and this is the first time it was with someone who knows what the hell he’s doing.
 

“That was better than the fantasy,” he says.

I snuggle closer. “Oh, well, you did all the work.”
 

“That’s because you’re inspiring.”
 

I want to kiss his bare chest and pretend we belong to each other. Instead, I sigh and roll over on my back. “What time do we fly out?”
 

Vincent flips onto his side and draws me into him. He spoons me, fondling my nipples. “You’re stuck with me for two more days.” He bumps his boner against my ass. “And nights.”

I twist around to look at him. “But we have to get back.”

“It’s a three-day storm.”

“How do you know? Have you checked the weather report?”

“Yes, I have,” he says.

I narrow one eye. “Did you know about the storm before you flew us out here?”

He smirks. “You sound suspicious.”

“That’s because I am.”

“Let’s just say I wanted to make this moment happen, and I did.”

I sigh. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“Why not, baby?”

I massage my forehead, trying to rub the tension out of it. I must remember what’s really going on. This won’t lead to love, marriage, and a baby carriage, especially since he’s had a vasectomy.
 

“What’s on your mind?” he asks.

“Nothing. Forget it.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Don’t call me ‘baby’ anymore. It’s confusing.”
 

“It’s not confusing to me. Don’t think this is going to mess up our working relationship. It’s only going to make it better.”

“Tsk. How is that?”

“I’ll tell you later. First, I want to know everything about you. What do you do on the weekends?”

“Huh?” That’s the craziest question he could ask at this moment.

“I want to know what you do on the weekends.”

I sigh. “Really?”

“Do I have to ask a third time?”

“No…” I roll my eyes. “I don’t know. I have three socially active girlfriends, so I always have something to do.”

He shifts my hair so he can kiss my collarbone. “Like what?”

“This party. That party. This gallery. That fashion show, or a store opening. Most weekends we just go out and have a good time.”

“What’s a good time?”

“We drink. We talk. We dance. Some Sundays we do hot dogs for breakfast in Washington Square.”

“You haven’t met anyone while you were drinking, talking, and dancing?”

“I leave that up to Hannah and Monroe. Guys fall at their feet. They’re twin supermodels. Actually, you might like them.”

“But I like you.”

“But you have a girlfriend who looks like a supermodel.”
 

He remains silent.
 

“I get it. You don’t want to talk about her while you’re fucking me. Well, I don’t want to talk about other guys while I’m fucking you.”

“That’s fair.”

“I thought so.”

He flips me onto my back and spreads my legs. “Then I should start fucking you.”

I inhale when he jabs me with his hard-on. We lock lips. Our mouths fit and so do our bodies.
 

“
Damn, Vincent Adams, I love you right now.”

“I love you too,” he whispers.

Shit. I said that out loud.

Chapter 9

The Closer We Get

The night fades to dawn. Vincent has been inside me so many times I can still feel him there. I stare out at the white nothingness beyond the window. Just as Vincent said, the storm isn’t over. The walls bang. The wind roars. The snow crashes. I can’t sleep even though I’m drained. My mind is too alive.
 

When Vincent and I kiss, it’s as if we should’ve been doing it our whole lives. The faint sound of him snoring is intoxicating. Even as he sleeps, he can’t keep his hands off of me. He has a hand against my belly and an arm threaded between the pillow and my neck. I don’t understand his infatuation. It’s nonsensical.
 

My eyelids are heavy. I scoot to the edge of the bed.
 

Vincent stops snoring. “Are you awake?” He sounds drowsy.
 

“I have to pee.”

“Umm.” He sucks my nipple into his mouth.
 

I hum. It feels so good.

“Don’t be long.”

I roll out of bed, and his gaze lingers on my body. “It only takes two minutes tops to pee.” I grin.
 

He lifts the blanket to show off his new erection. “He can’t wait any longer than that.”

I tilt my head. “Is that all you have for me?”

He frowns, perplexed. I spin on my heels and let him chew on that.
 

After I’m done relieving myself, I brush my teeth and study myself in the mirror. I have hickeys on both sides of my neck. Their appearance is like the eighth wonder of the world. I’ve never had them. Actually, I’ve been turning red a lot lately. I run my fingers across the red spots. I look ravaged. Surprisingly, my hair is still fluffy and sexy. I’ve never looked this good in my life.
 

Vincent boosts himself up on his forearm when I step out of the bathroom. “I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he says.

“What did I say?” I’m drawing a blank.

“You asked if my dick is all I have for you.” He lifts the blanket. “Get in.”

I narrow one eye suspiciously. “Boy” has gone down. I slide into the warm bed, and he snuggles up against my backside.

“So what else are you going to give me besides my job?”

He chuckles. “You must stop worrying about your job. If I fire you now, you can sue my ass for sexual harassment.”

“And I will. If you make me.”

“I’ve never gone back on a promise. Not to mention you kick ass at your job. When Jack asked me to consider you for the job, I said yes because I wanted to be near you.”

“Which still shocks the hell out of me,” I interject.
 

“You were smart in that economics class. You sat in the far right row, three chairs from the front.”

“You remember that?”

“You never said a word. You always looked as if you were bored. Then one day, Hanford asked you to explain supply-side economics. Everybody expected you to bomb.”

“Yeah. I remember that,” I whisper with a chuckle.
 

“You taught him a lesson and the rest of us too.”

“I wondered why he asked me. I wasn’t part of his ass-kissing gang.”

“Speaking of asses, you were kind of a bad ass.”

“Who? Me?”

“You used to wear those tight leather pants.”

“Pleather, and they were called ‘stirrups.’”

“Your ass in those pants…”

“You know, I’ve heard that I have a nice ass, but I can’t see it.”
 

“Boy” is back up and grinding me. “It’s nice. Damn perfect.” He squeezes both cheeks and sucks air between his teeth.
 

I chuckle. “If you say so.”

“You’re a natural blonde?”

“Never used hair color in my life, although I’ve thought about going red.”

“Blondes always bored me until you came to town.”

“Happy I could get you excited about us again. I’m a blonde, but guys don’t generally see fun when they look at me. I’m the no-frills blonde.”

“I disagree. You’re frills.”

“Oh, then I’m no thrills.”

“I’ve been getting a thrill out of you.”
 

We laugh.

“I’ve been getting a thrill out of you too.”

Vincent thrills me some more. Our stomachs growl, but we keep going until noon. My cell phone rings, and his buzzes in the bedroom across the hall. We decide to power them down.
 

I stay in bed while Vincent warms up mushroom stroganoff crepes. He returns with a big plate of food, two forks, two glasses, and a bottle of red wine. We eat and drink while watching my favorite movie,
Chinatown
, starring Jack Nicholson. We watch it twice.

“She’s my daughter.” He fake slaps me. “My sister.” He does it again. “My daughter…”

We laugh, bouncing around on the bed like teenagers. I feel as if we’re still in high school.
 

Vincent pins me to the mattress. “I’m ready to make love to you.”
 

We kiss. Tender. Slow. Indulgent. We have all the time in the world. After all, we’re trapped in a snowstorm. I moan as our tongues pet each other.
 

“You’re a quiet lover, and that makes you an honest lover,” he whispers.
 

Vincent swirls his tongue around my shoulder. He lifts my arms and makes out with my armpits. I smell like sex. He sucks down the side of my breast until he nibbles on the nipple. I’m overly excited. My pussy is craving his penis, but he’s not even close to that part yet. His mouth tastes its way down past my stomach, down my leg until he sinks each one of my toes into his mouth. The warm softness of his tongue makes me moan.
 

Vincent sinks his fingers inside of me. “You get so damn wet, baby.” He takes his perfect penis and rims it around the entrance of my vagina. “I’m going to give you this. How bad do you want it?”
 

He’s talking dirty, toying with me. I’m supposed to respond, but I’ve never played that game before.
 

“Say something, baby.”

“I want it,” I say.
 

“I don’t believe you. Do you want it or not?” He looks me in the eyes. Shit, he’s serious.
 

The truth is I want it but not inside me. “I want to taste it.”

He grins. “That’s better. You can do whatever the hell you want to it.”

Vincent straddles me on his knees. I sit up, wrap my hand around his shaft, and sink his beautiful penis so deep into my mouth that it touches the back of my throat. My lips, my cheeks, and my tongue collapse around him. He goes crazy as I grab his ass and shift him in and out of my mouth, sucking the tip extra hard.
 

“Oh, shit,” he whimpers.
 

Vincent can only take it for so long. He pulls completely out of my mouth. He lays me back, throws my legs wide apart, grabs the headboard, and pounds me. Five strokes, and he shivers as he comes. As soon as his body stills, he flops on top of me.
 

“I think you’ve milked me for everything I have,” he says.
 

I wrap my arms around him and yawn. “That’s great, because I’m drained.”
 

But he kisses me. I love the sounds he makes when he does that. I don’t understand how he can feel this way about me and have a girlfriend too. Perhaps he’ll break up with her. Do I want him to do that? The thought of Vincent being my boss and boyfriend scares the hell out of me. Vincent nibbles on my neck, and a sound escapes me, letting him know that I enjoy what he’s doing.

“If only…” he whispers.

I panic slightly, wondering if he’s going to lead us into the big conversation of “the next step.” Obviously, something more than mind-blowing sex is going on between us.
 

“If only what?” I ask.

“I had more gas in the tank.”
 

After a series of flips and shifting, Vincent gathers me into him and clicks off the television. He slides his hand up and down my hip and kisses my cheek.
 

“Get some sleep,” he whispers.
 

I’m glad he didn’t want to talk about our relationship—or lack thereof. “Night.”

He draws me in so close it’s as if we’re sticky-glued to each other. “Night, baby.”

I close my eyes. It’s okay if he calls me that while we’re here. We’ve made enough love to give him a pass.
 

There’s a fair amount of brightness when I open my eyes. At some point during the night, the storm took a turn for the worst. I was too drowsy to give it any attention, but the windows banged and the house alarm buzzed a few times.
 

At the moment, calmness prevails. The windows are crystal clear and free of ice. I have unobstructed views of a white-coated mountain range.
 

Vincent is gone. I’m naked and have been ever since Vincent stripped me out of the T-shirt I found in the closet. The fireplace is still kindling, so the room is warm and toasty. All the iced terrain, trees, and houses outside seem to be in a different universe. I slide out of bed and walk to the French doors to attain a better view of nature’s artwork.

Someone is driving a snowplow across the lawn. The machine isn’t as big as Darius’s, but the sidewalk, other areas in the yard, and the spaces along the gates have been cleared. The driver stops the machine and waves. He’s bundled up, but I have no doubt it’s Vincent. He climbs down from the machine. He’s out of sight for a moment but reappears on the steps to the balcony. I unlock and open the door. The frosty air stings my bare skin.

“You’re up,” he says, promptly closing the door behind him.

“It looks like the storm has passed.”

Vincent peels off his damp coat, ski mask, and gloves. I’m dazzled by the unveiling of his gorgeous face.
 

“Yes, but the airports are closed until tomorrow.” He takes me by the waist. His hands are like ice cubes. “I finished just in time.”

“In time for what?” I’m being walked backward to the bed. The backs of my thighs hit the mattress.
 

“Breakfast.” Vincent swoops my legs up off the floor. I plop onto the bed, and he drops to his knees. His lips are cold, but his mouth is hot. We moan in unison as he wraps his tongue around my clit.

He licks a tiny spot, and I quiver. He hums and stimulates that one area. I claw the blanket and whimper some incoherent shit. He tugs my lower half closer and sounds like a famished man at the buffet. I cry out and wriggle in his clutches. He doesn’t relent, not even when his hands reach up to squeeze my breasts. Vincent means to make me come and come
hard
. I pitch my head back and scream as the orgasm pulses deep inside of me. After I release the breath I’ve been holding, Vincent takes one last lick, hops to his feet, and tugs off his two sweaters and waterproof pants. We don’t break eye contact.