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“I don’t know when he’ll go there. It might take a few days, or even weeks. The printer is ready and can print a fresh paper each day. Just mimic what I do on this one.”
“I know, you told me. We’ll stay on top of it.”
"And call me as soon as it looks like it’s going to happen. I want to be there."
"You're the boss."
"I'll leave this one at the print shop. Have your guy pick it up soon." I slid the paper back into the manila envelope and carefully closed it. Staring at the parcel, I gave myself one final chance to back out.
* * *
It took two days, and then I was there, parked outside her Mediterranean-style apartment, watching them scream and fight and destroy the chance for whatever love had existed between them.
I didn’t care. I was happy that it happened. They didn’t have a future anyway, not really. I was the one he belonged with, whether he knew it or not.
I drove out of her complex and headed to the spa for a celebratory massage.
Chapter 39
After three hours of seaweed wraps, a facial, and a vigorous deep-tissue massage, I picked up a sandwich for Brant and headed to his office. He wasn’t there, an unsurprising fact. I stuck his sandwich in the office fridge and scribbled a love note for him. Then I got in my car and left Palo Alto, taking the winding highway that took me home. I ran a few errands along the way, detouring through Lee's part of the world in the hopes that fate might put us together.Nothing. I got back on the interstate.
When I pulled into my driveway, my mouth curved into a grin at the sight of Lee's Jeep, parked on the right side of my drive, his tall build leaning against the hood. His head lifted and he stepped away from the vehicle as I parked in the circular drive.That didn't take long. I got out and turned to him. His hands were tucked into the front pockets of his shorts, his shoulders hunched but his eyes steady, the cool afternoon wind whipping through us both.
"You lost?" I called out.
"Figured I had to leave the slums every once in a while." He waved the crumpled-up receipt from on our first meeting - the one where I had scribbled down my phone number and address, over five months ago. He glanced toward the house and raised an appreciative brow. "Nice digs."
"You look dirty,” I said. His hair was wild and dusted with sand, like he'd driven top down through the desert. "Sure you aren't just using me for a hot shower?"
He stepped closer and rested his forearms on my convertible’s hardtop. "You trying to get me naked?”
I met his cocky smile. "I don't need hot water for that." I shut the car door and headed to the porch, and he followed me up the steps. "Where's the girlfriend?" The words rolled out perfectly, call casual innocence.
"She's gone." He shrugged, but I caught the way his eyes lowered, and I heard the scratch in his throat, the attempt to hide the catch with a short cough.
I unlocked the door and held it open, waiting as he passed inside. I took my time closing it behind me, knowing that—as soon as it shut—the dynamic in this situation would change.
I clicked it into place and flipped the deadbolt. I turned and Lee was standing there. Close. So close that when he took a step forward, it put my back flat against the door, my keys falling to the floor, my breath catching somewhere in the space between us. He moved forward, the warmth of his body fully against me, one leg sliding in between mine, the hard press of him teasing the ache in my core. He let out a hard breath against my neck, his hands tracking down the side of my body and cupping the curve of my ass. Pulling me even tighter, he ground his hips against mine.
"I don't want to be your rebound," I whispered.
“And I don't want to be your side piece." He bit out the words against my neck. "But tonight, I need a fucking rebound. I need to bury myself inside of you. Tonight, I am your side piece. So both of us can fuck like adults and both of us can lose our minds for a night and not feel like shit about it." He squeezed my ass so hard it hurt, the hitch in my breath bringing his head up until his mouth was even with mine, his breath hot in the moment before he pressed his lips against mine. His kiss was rough and possessive and he rutted against me, pining me against the door. "You feel that, Lucky?" He grabbed my hand and put it on his zipper. Held it there until my fingers moved, gripping the stiff outline of his cock. "That's my level of need right now. Now, be a good slut, and get it out."
I fumbled with the button of his shorts. I got it free and then yanked at his zipper. Pulled it down and pushed my hand in. Let out a shudder when my fingers wrapped around and pulled him free. He was so hard in my hand. So ready. I squeezed it. Worked my hand up and down its thick length as he ravaged my mouth, the hiss against my lips telling me the tempo he liked. He grabbed between my legs, his thumb pressing my clit through my yoga pants, but the stimulation wasn't enough, not compared with the steel organ in my hand. The one that was pulsing beneath my palm. The one whose tip was wet with arousal; his shaft warm with need. I dropped his cock and put both hands on his chest, pushing him away. He fought it, his kiss fighting for my mouth, one of his hands catching my wrist and putting my hand back on his cock, my name a beg on his lips.
Fuck, I lusted for this man. I needed him. I needed him to be completely mine. I didn't want second best. I didn't want rebound sex. My desire for him trumped anything with Brant. I couldn't help that. I couldn't help the different way I felt about each man. I only knew that right now, I needed more than my hand on his cock. I needed to feel, for at least a moment, a full connection with him.
"The bedroom," I gasped out. I pulled away, past him and headed up the stairs that would take us to my bed.
"No." The resolution in his voice stopped me on the second step. I looked back. He stood in the middle of my foyer, his legs spread, shorts low on his hips, his cock heavy in his fist. "I need you right now. Lay down."
"Here?" I looked down at the Persian rug that was over a hundred years old.
"Christ, Lucky. Now. Strip."
I yanked my sports tank over my head and tugged at my yoga pants, unable to take my gaze off him. One hand pressed at the base of his cock, the other moved in slow strokes. His handsome face was hard with desire, his gaze intense as he watched me fumble out of the pants.
“Come here,” he rasped, and dropped to his knees. He reached for me and pulled me down before him, the rough kiss of the carpet on my bare back. He spread my knees apart, held onto my waist and pulled me forward onto his stiff cock.
