Steel. Iron. There’s no other way to describe the state my cock has been in since that surprising exchange with Sabrina. Though my need may have been tempered while I dealt with Marco, by the time I arrived home a few hours ago it was back with a vengeance.
Jesus, who would have thought she and I would go there so quickly. Granted, I have lusted after her for quite a few years now, so I suppose there’s nothing quick about it, but a few weeks ago she was ignoring me and now all of a sudden we’re discussing things I might do to her on my desk. No big surprise that I’m hard as a fucking rock, stiff as iron and steel. After years of pining, she’s giving me the green light to go after what I want. I think even a monk would be turned on by that exchange.
I spend a few minutes contemplating what might have happened if my damn brother hadn’t stormed in there and interrupted us. I’d love to say I’m enough of a gentleman to hold back but considering the state of things below my waist, I doubt I would have been anything more than a hot, horny male.
Taking a long pull on my beer, I stare out at the Miami skyline. From my spot on the balcony that runs the entire length of my apartment, I can see mostly high rises. Still, the view is spectacular. One day I hope to have an ocean view like Marco but until that time this place suits me fine. I’ve changed very little since moving into this apartment, adding only a larger bed and a wide screen TV to the bits and pieces of furniture I’ve purchased over the years. It’s not pricey like Cruz’s place or sleek like Marco’s, but it’s mine and I like living here. It’s right in the heart of the city, affording me close proximity to restaurants and bars, and I’m not far from the office either, which is convenient.
I can’t see Sabrina living in a place like this, though. She seems more refined, less inclined to get sucked into the whole Miami swanky apartment living thing. I can see her setting down roots in a classy little condo, something with a lot of light, maybe some soft leather furniture. Or maybe her home is a small bungalow a few minutes outside of the city, something with wicker furnishings and plants throughout.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I toss back the rest of the beer and pad into the kitchen for another. Thinking about where she lives is waste of my time, as is questioning where all those flirty come-hither looks came from. If the past is any gauge, chances are by the next time I see her she’ll be back to ignoring me and once again referring to me as Mr. Moran.
A knock sounds at my door, and I take a quick glance at the clock. It’s past ten, not late by my standards, but I’m not exactly feeling like I want to entertain. What I want is to down this beer, hit the shower, take care of this perpetual hard-on, and get some sleep.
The knock sounds again and with a muttered curse, I fling the door open. Marco is standing there with a wide grin, holding up a full bottle of tequila. “Hey, little brother.”
“What the hell are you doing at my door at this time of night?”
He chuckles and steps inside the door, dropping the bottle down on the counter. “What’s the matter, Romeo, need to get your beauty sleep?”
“Shut up.” Giving the door a slam, I retrieve a couple of glasses and gesture for him to take a seat on the couch. “What do you want, other than to get me drunk on tequila?”
Marco settles in and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “You threw me out of your office earlier.”
“Yeah. So?”
He smirks and greedily sucks down the tequila the minute I hand it to him. “What the hell is going on with you and Sabrina?”
It’s weird that he’s here this late, trying to pull information from me that I refused to give not only a few hours ago. In fact, it’s really weird that he wants to talk about this at all. Marco isn’t exactly the deepest guy I know, and while he’s now securely tethered to Amita, I doubt he’s changed his spots so much that he seeks out emotional conversations with his brothers.
“What the hell is going on with you? You couldn’t give a fuck about what goes on in my personal life and now all of a sudden you’re showing up at my house late at night to interrogate me.” Glass in hand, I start to pace the length of the living room, stopping only when the big frigging light bulb goes on over my head. “Cruz sent you, didn’t he?”
Marco offers me a sheepish look and shrugs. “I might have mentioned that she was in your office behind closed doors. He just wants to make sure that it’s all business between you guys. You know how he is about the office policy bullshit.”
Slamming the glass down, I snarl, “You two need to stay the fuck out of my life. If something is gonna happen with me and her, it’s none of anyone’s business.”
Sliding his arm along the back of the couch, he states, “Look, man, I really don’t give a crap what you do and honestly, I’m not sure why this is such a big deal with Cruz. The guy did bang his secretary after all.”
“She’s his wife, dude. Have a little respect.”
He shrugs, grinning like the cocky asshole he is. “Semantics.” Refilling our glasses, he waits for me to take a seat then continues. “I think he’s just being protective of you, that’s all.”
“Since when? I’ve been bringing random women around for years and he’s barely noticed. Now all of a sudden I show interest in someone he happens to know and he’s like my father for crying out loud.”
“True. But this one is different.”
“How so?” I know Sabrina is different, in every single way that matters, which is why I’ve spent the better half of the last few years torn up in knots over her. I thought, however, that I’d kept that little secret well hidden.
“She’s not like your usual chicks.” When I give him a quizzical look, he grins and replies, “You know … big tits, small ass, and no brains.”
Christ, am I really that shallow? “They’re not all like that.” Yes they are.
“Yes they are.” Marco sets his glass aside and drags his fingers through his hair. “Between you and me, what is going on with you two?”
While I somewhat doubt he’ll keep our conversation between the two of us, I feel like I need to let him know that I’m serious about Sabrina. She’s not some warm body that I’ll entertain for a few hours. She’s not disposable like all the other airhead beauties I’ve brought around in the past. Sure, I’ve been shallow in my previous choices, but it’s not like I ever had to drag anyone kicking and screaming into my bed. The women were always more than willing to be there. Hell, the bigger problem was getting rid of them when it was over.
He’s right, though. Sabrina is different, in every single way. She does have all the requisite things I usually appreciate: the mouthwatering beauty, the long legs. And while she’s not what I’d classify as well-endowed, she’s perfectly proportioned—long and lean and breathtaking. She has a beautifully sharp brain that’s as much of a turn-on to me as those large blue eyes. But it’s the cool mask she hides behind that intrigues me the most. I want to peel back the layers … very slowly … one at a time … until she’s finally revealed in her truest form to me. Then I want to ease her down on her back and lose myself in her for hours on end.
“Dude, you okay there?”
I shoot him a sideways glance and shrug. “I don’t know, man. I think maybe … I don’t know … maybe I might be in love with her.”
A variety of emotions slide over his face. First there’s shock, because while I might have thrown the love word around in the past with all my flighty women, I’ve never come right out and said something like this. Then comes the disbelief, which is followed quickly by a snort, which is then followed by loud, bellowing laughter.
When he’s finally calmed down, he sputters, “Seriously, dude, quit fucking around. There’s no way you can be in love with this chick. You haven’t even dated her.” He lifts a dark brow. “Have you?”
I ignore his question. “Oh, and all of sudden you’re such an expert on love. You and Amita have been together what … three, four months? Give me a fucking break.” Rising, I move toward the slider and pull it open. “Just forget what I said, all right? I’m tired.”
Strangely enough, Marco actually does as I request. He lets the subject drop, mutters something about seeing me at the office, and before I know it I’m once again alone with my thoughts.
What the hell is up with my family all of a sudden? I’ve always been able to fly right below the radar, never raising suspicions, never causing concern. Everyone knows I’m the charmer, the ladies’ man, the Romeo of us Moran brothers. And I’m certain they all believe I’m simple and shallow and easy to please. Who knows … maybe I am. Or maybe I used to be, until the first day I laid eyes on Sabrina and all the other shit simply faded to black.
I suppose I need to do a better job of melting into the wood work. I hate the thought that in doing that, I’ll have to continue the charade that I’ve perfected all these years. Wow, how pathetic is it that I shudder at the thought of going out and schmoozing some chick into my bed. Guess I’m more invested in Sabrina than I originally thought.
I do have to be real with myself here. It’s taken years for her to be willing to have an actual conversation with me, years for her to look me directly in the eye and not scuttle away. Although I’m thrilled at the sexy little exchange we had in my office early, I have no illusions that those few minutes will change anything. If I’m going to invest my heart in this woman, I’m going to have to be willing to invest a lot of time and patience. Chances are, she may not even want the same things I do. For that matter, I still don’t know if she’s a free woman, though I’d hate to think she was looking at me like she was and was committed to someone else.
Pulling the slider shut, I lock up for the night and head down the hall toward my bedroom. Tomorrow is another day, and I fully intend to make the most of it. I’m not about to spend all my time worrying about how things are going to be between me and her, so first thing I’m heading to her office and feeling it out.
My perfectly executed plan falls completely apart, however, when I arrive to find her office door closed and locked. Cynthia informs me she called in sick. I murmur some response, toss the coffee I brought for her in the trash, and head to the parking garage.
I’d wager that the only sickness she’s got is one called regret. I should be the nice guy and be understanding about it, but I’m seriously pissed off. She started that whole thing with her take-me-to-bed looks and sultry innuendo. I am not the bad guy here. But since today is Friday, I’ve now got three days in front of me to contemplate what the hell I can do to fix this. Clearly she’s either not ready to get involved with me or the real kicker … she has no interest in getting involved with me. Either way, I come up short and looking like a heartsick, desperate fool.