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“You can’t see me now, but I’m raising my eyebrows.” she said, a soft giggle following her words.
“I wish I could see you,” I admitted, my voice rough with longing. “I wish you were sharing my bed.”
What the fuck? Was I crazy telling this to Erika? I was admitting my feelings, breaking every rule I had set for myself.
She giggled again, and my heart fluttered. There was no way this was happening. I scrubbed a hand over my face and massaged my erection again, trying to will it away.
“I bet you do, Elliott,” she said, a teasing edge to her tone.
“Why did you bother to call me?” I asked, frustration seeping into my voice. “How many men do you torture on a daily basis?”
“You think I’m torturing you? You should’ve left well enough alone,” she replied, her tone light but with an underlying seriousness.
“Give me five minutes of your time. A drink tonight?” I pushed, unwilling to let her go.
“Maybe. I have a date tonight,” she said, a hint of mischief in her voice.
“With who? Wayne?” I asked, jealousy flaring up inside me.
“Heavens no. His name is Victor,” she said, laughing softly.
“I can show you a better time,” I countered, my voice laced with confidence.
“I can’t cancel. How about brunch on Sunday? The Wyatt serves a delicious champagne brunch,” she offered, a compromise in her tone.
“It’s too public for me,” I replied, already imagining the attention we’d attract.
Erika paused, the silence heavy between us. “If I come to your apartment again, I’m afraid of where it will lead.”
“You want it to lead to the same conclusion as I do,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper, daring her to admit the truth.
“You’re so sure of yourself?” she asked, but I could hear the uncertainty in her voice.
“I am. I know you, Erika,” I said, my voice firm and certain.
She yawned softly in my ear, the sound making my heart clench. “I need to go to bed.”
“Dream about me, sweet girl,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
“Where do you come up with this crap?” she asked, laughing softly.
“It’s a request,” I said, my tone light but sincere.
“I can’t tell my subconscious what to do,” she replied, a smile in her voice.
“Will you tell me if you do?” I asked, a playful challenge in my tone.
“A girl has to have her secrets. Goodnight, Lincoln,” she said in a breathy whisper.
The phone clicked off before I could respond. Just the way she said my name sent me to the bathroom for another round of relief.
I spent most of my day with Erika on my mind, her image stubbornly wedged between client calls and the endless task of setting up appointments for the week ahead. She had embedded herself under my skin, and I couldn’t shake her off, no matter how hard I tried. This was uncharted territory for me—unsettling and disorienting. For the first time, I began to grasp what my brothers had been harping on about all these years.
My oldest brother, Michael, had been utterly consumed by a woman named Morgan before he disappeared. Then there was Talon, tangled up in some complicated affair with a woman named Storm. At least he still had the sense to play the field, like he did last night.
I’d always scoffed at their talk of slowing down, of finding that one person, but now? Now I was beginning to see what they meant. By early evening, I couldn’t resist any longer. I grabbed my phone and called Erika, my resolve crumbling to dust. It was pathetic, and I knew it. When she didn’t answer, I was left with no choice but to leave a voicemail.
“I was wondering if we’re still on for brunch tomorrow,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I made a reservation at The Wyatt for 11, just in case. Although, honestly, I’d much prefer you join me at my apartment. I know you’re hesitant, but… let me know what your plans are.”
